


Combustible

by peddlergirl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abduction, Aftermath of Torture, Blood and Torture, Captive, Captured, Comforting Dean Winchester, Comforting Sam Winchester, Dean Has Nightmares, Dean to the Rescue, Demons, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Flashbacks, Healers, Hurt/Comfort, Jealous Dean, Jealous Dean Winchester, Monsters, Nightmares, Original Monster Species, Pain, Past Abuse, Past Torture, Rape, Rape Aftermath, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rescue, Revenge, Sacrifice, Scars, Strong Female Characters, Torture, Tough Main Character, Violence, overcoming
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-25
Updated: 2017-05-10
Packaged: 2018-06-04 11:14:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 48
Words: 146,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6655714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peddlergirl/pseuds/peddlergirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I had been tortured and abused in that cellar for months. But when Sam and Dean Winchester pulled me out, I knew the best way to pay them back was to get out of their lives as quickly as possible. A monster was hunting me, a monster that would stop at nothing until I was back under his control.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Escape

           The air in the cellar was heavy and dark, and every breath an agony of pain. The handcuffs at my wrists and ankles clinked dully as I shifted. My clothes were in shreds, a mere inconvenience for their claws and teeth. Every inch of me had been marked by the bastards. The days had blurred together until I started measuring time by how often they entered my cellar and whether I got any sleep before the next tormentor arrived.

            A deafening clattering suddenly thundered above me, all snarls and shrieks and heavy movement. I pulled at my restraints anxiously as adrenaline shot through my veins. Had they captured someone else? Had more of the monsters arrived? The door at the top of the steps crashed open, two tall forms barreling in, bringing dying shrieks and blinding light with them.

            I would not cower in the darkness. They hadn’t broken me yet. “Come on, you bastards! What do you want now?!” I strained toward them and the chair rocked, chains rattling.

            They jerked to a halt at the bottom of the steps, quickly checking the rest of the small room. It was empty, except for me. Light blazed through the open door and outlined their frames, one towering well over six feet and the other was all broad shoulders. “Who the hell are you?” Barked the shorter one, who was only small by comparison to the beast at his side.

            The giant came at me in a rush, blocking out the light. “Why are you–?”

            As soon as he came within reach, I slammed my head into his face, satisfaction racing through my veins at the crunch of bones. He reared back, a gush of blood pouring down his face and splashing into my matted hair. My heart began to race as the fresh copper scent of his blood filled the air. It wasn’t brackish enough for demon blood or fermented enough to be vampire—human? “Who the hell are _you_?” My voice rasped as I fought against the handcuffs.

          “ _Shit!_ Was that really necessary?” He grunted as blood dripped down his angular face.

           The other one snorted. “She thinks on her feet. I like that.” He shined a flashlight in my eyes, completely blinding me. “So, sweet cheeks, what are you?” He splashed water in my face. “Not a demon.”

            “I’m human!” This was unbelievable. “Check for fangs, damn it--not a vampire either!”  I hissed, showing my gums. “Now, get me out!”

            The big one wiped the blood from his face. “We need to move, Dean. It’s not going to take long for the others to realize what we did to their little friends upstairs and come swarming the place. She’s dead if we leave her.” He crouched beside me warily, just out of reach. “Okay, Killer, easy, now. I''m just trying to help.” He pulled a lock pick out of his pocket and I sucked in my first full breath since their arrival. If they were going to help me, I might just have a chance out of this godforsaken place.

            “Wait, those won’t--” The words had barely left my mouth before the metal tools made contact with the handcuffs and white hot arcs of pain blazed up my calves and forearms, wrenching a tight moan from me. Angry red sparks showered from the cuffs and knocked him off his haunches.

            “Shit! Restrained _and_ warded?” The one with the shoulders –Dean-- stepped back and studied the eyebolts and excess chains securing the chair to the floor. “I can get you out but it’s going to hurt,” he warned. Barely waiting for a nod, he planted himself behind me. “Hang tight.” Large hands threaded through the back of the chair, his knuckles against the small of my back. He strained and the chair creaked as he lifted it off the ground and slammed it down at an odd angle. The impact shattered the leg and the rest of the chair splintered apart beneath me. I hit the ground, hard. Scrambling, I shook myself off and was able to work the handcuffs free of the debris. They were still attached to me, but I could move again.

            “We need to get out of here." Dean lugged me to my feet and pain suddenly crackled through every muscle with a ferocity that stole my breath. Dean ignored my hunched, shuffling steps and hauled me behind him toward the stone stairwell.  “Let’s go. We’re burning daylight.”

 

 

            We stepped through the doorway into a hazy light. My cellar had been beneath a pole barn where the demons and vamps had set up camp. Decapitated and staked corpses littered the barn area and the men ignored the carnage as they made their way to the barn doors. The rising stench of evil and vampire blood was cloying and when we stepped out into the sunlight I sucked in a deep breath of cleansing air. The warmth of the sun poured over my battered face like a blessing. A black Chevy Impala was parked off to the side and Sam slid into the back, gesturing for me to get in beside him. Dean barely waited for me to clear the door before slamming it shut and climbing behind the wheel. He started her up with a roar and we took off down the county road, leaving the death and carnage behind us.

            I hunched in the back seat as we drove in silence. The cool draft of the air conditioning shocked me and I let out a long breath. I was out. I was free from those sons of bitches. I inspected myself in the light of day and struggled to be objective. My skin was sallow, an ugly pale color that made the blood and bruises stand out all the more clearly. The handcuffs were stark on my wrists and ankles with angry welts and broken skin beneath them. There was barely enough of my clothing left to cover me, and fresh blood was seeping from the deep gouges over my ribs and the claw marks stretching across my right shoulder down across my collarbone. Bruises and half healed scars covered the rest of what I could see, and my jeans were slashed across my right thigh with blood still seeping through. Ever present pain was gnawing at me but it was muted beneath the adrenaline still pumping in my veins. I could hardly wrap my head around what was happening, and tried to ignore the taunting voice in my head warning that it was all a dream. “Who are you?” The rasp of my voice was more pronounced in the quietness of the car.

           The guys shared a look in the rearview mirror that was heavy with conversation before the giant in the back seat with me spoke. “I’m Sam Winchester and this is my brother, Dean. We’re hunters. What’s your name?”

           “Alex.”

           Sam cleared his throat, eyes concerned. “How long did they have you?”

           “Long enough.” I pulled back farther into the corner. Heavy silence filled the Impala and he shifted uncomfortably beside me.

           “Not long enough to lose your fight.” He ruefully touched his nose and I could clearly see the break in it. There were several other bumps in the ridge of his nose and something told me that it was not his first experience with breaking bones. Both of them gave off an almost military vibe, as if they had been through things I could only imagine. And thanks to recent experience, I could imagine a hell of a lot. My assessment hitched as I realized that he wasn’t just tall, but ripped. Long ropey muscles from head to toe and his six and a half feet were folded nearly in half in the back seat with me, his controlled strength barely held in check in the small space. “For being such a spitfire, though, it does look like the other guys got the best of you a time or two.” He grasped my face for a better look at the bruises and I reacted instinctively.

_I am not tied down any more._

             I had him pinned to the car door with his own knife at his throat before he could blink. Stabbing pain pulsed at the abrupt movement but I blocked it out, pressing firmly against his wind pipe.

             His eyes shone with wary appreciation as he slowly held his hands at his sides, palms out. “Easy, killer.”

             “Don’t fucking mess with me,” I hissed.

             He gave a small nod and kept his hands where I could see them. “Sorry.”

             “Sammy, settle down back there and leave her be.” Dean’s eyes met mine in the mirror for a split second before he turned back to the road. “We’re not far from our place. You can clean up there.”

             I released Sam and huddled back in corner of the seat, his knife still clutched in my hand. The rest of the ride was quiet, with Sam and I both keeping a wary eye on each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to leave comments and feedback, I always want to improve my writing! This is only a piece of the story and plenty more is on it's way! Please check back for more!
> 
> *Hello! Thanks so much for taking the time to read my little creation. I do not own Supernatural but sure do love borrowing the beloved characters and playing in their world for a short while.*


	2. Home Sweet Hotel Room

           Dean walked into the dumpy motel room and threw a duffle on one of the two beds. “Home sweet home.”

           I doggedly made my way into the room with short, painful steps, a guarded eye on Sam as he followed behind me. The room was small, two single beds on the right facing a cheap dresser with a small TV on the left. A narrow walkway between them led to the bathroom on the far side. The large Winchester men made the space shrink even smaller and I did not like having the biggest hovering behind me. Dean clicked on the TV and set it to the news, turning it down to a low hum as I skirted where he stood to settle on the corner of the far bed, watching them both with a wall at my back, and Sam’s small knife in my fist.

            “Well.” Dean shrugged out of his jacket and slapped his hands together, his dark eyes assessing. “You were quite the unexpected development.”

            “Dean, give her a minute to breathe.” Sam protested, leaning against the closed front door.

            Dean ignored him, his intent gaze narrowing. “You have a story I am very interested in hearing.”

            “Same to you.” My voice was raspy, and I swallowed and tried again. “You weren’t there for me. Who were you there for?”

            “That’s above your pay grade, sweetheart.” Dean flashed me a quick grin and I took the chance to study him. Where Sam was all length and oversized limbs, Dean was tall in his own right somewhere around six foot and compact. A black t-shirt only outlined how all his bulk was solid muscle. They both had dark hair but Sam was fair skinned and clean shaven and Dean was dark, with stubble shadowing a strong jaw line. His piercing dark eyes watched me, a small pinch between his brows giving away the intensity beneath his nonchalance. My assessment didn’t ignore the fact that they were both disarmingly attractive, the differences between them just making them more so. The longer I stared the more he lost the grin and his eyes began to harden. I didn’t make any effort to fill the increasingly tense silence _._

            “Don’t want to spill your guts? Fine. But I need to know what we stepped into and if anyone’s going to be coming after you. Whose plaything were you? Demons or vampires? They both were crawling all over that place.”

            I shifted uncomfortably. _Plaything._ If that had been the only reason behind my abduction, I would’ve been able to fight my way out of there long ago. “Both.”

            “Odd,” he tilted his head, dark eyes intent, “neither of them generally like to share toys.”

            I snorted at the understatement. The two monster species usually avoided each other like the plague. Demons felt vampires were nothing more than mauling dogs who destroyed their prey, and vampires realized that demons were a far more powerful race, though that fact just made them resentful. “I don’t know who managed to make them play nice, but they shared the nest the entire time I was there.” My skin itched as I fought back memories of dragging claws and sharp teeth.

            “They didn’t just have you restrained in that cellar, they had you warded. They wanted you to suffer if you tried to escape. Why?”

            I shifted on the bed, realizing I would have to give them at least some information to ease their suspicions. “I wasn’t very cooperative.”

            Sam released a low laugh. “I never would’ve guessed.” His gaze landed on the knife I still clutched.

            I spared him a glance. “The restraints weren’t working so they added the warding. I hadn’t figured out the exact counter-spell yet.”

            Dean arched an eyebrow, a shadow of approval in his eyes. “How many times did you slip the restraints?”

             “Four.”

             He just hummed. “How did they get you in the first place?”

             I clenched my teeth. It had been too easy, just the thought of how easily it could happen again made paranoia curl at the edges of my mind. “A demon possessed me right off the street one day and made me walk into that cellar and lock myself in the handcuffs. There was a nest of vamps waiting for me.”

            “Why you?”

            I shrugged one shoulder, unsure how much to share. “I guess they were hungry.”

            Sam straightened against the doorway. “But why did they keep you? Vampires usually either drain or turn their victims within 24 hours.”

            Damn. They knew what they were doing. That made keeping my secrets a little trickier. “The demons wanted their turn.” The words were revolting in my mouth, all the more sour for their truth. “The vampires fed on me until they found new donors but the demons found me entertaining.”

            Dean studied my expression. “That still seems off. Vampires and demons don’t work together. Period. Especially not just for entertainment. Did they mention what they were planning? Are their friends going to come knocking down my door to get you back?”

            I shook my head, certain that I wasn’t going to stay long enough for this white lie to matter. “I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

            “We wiped out everything in that building, Dean. I don’t think we need to worry.”

            Dean nodded briskly at Sam and let out a deep breath. “All right then. You can stay for now. But make no mistake: if you’re hiding something that will bring hell to my door, I will personally kick your ass and leave you where they can find you.” There was a hard glint in his eyes that laid the line clearly in the sand between us. He and Sam were Team Winchester. I was not. My acknowledging nod broke the tension between us and he sat on the other bed, pulling a beer from the six pack on the dresser. He popped the top with ease and tilted his head back for a long, deep swallow. “For now let’s get you cleaned up and see if you need any stitches.”

            “About time,” Sam muttered.

            Dean ignored the dig and chugged another drink. “First, let’s see what we’ve got for those handcuffs.” Sam left his station at the front door and crossed to the leather messenger bag sitting on the dresser. He pulled out a worn leather book and tossed it. Dean caught it midair and started flipping through the pages.

           Ignoring Dean’s mutterings, Sam warily stepped closer to where I huddled, eyes suddenly beseeching. “That’s my favorite knife. I’d like to have it back.”

           I swallowed hard, chin lifting. “Well, I’d like to keep it.”

           Dean spared me a glance. “It really is his favorite. Sam thinks it’s some sort of good luck charm.”

           Sam leaned in a little closer, eyes softening. “You really don’t need it here. We’re not going to hurt you.”

           I snorted. “Right. Please forgive me for not wanting to give up the one thing I have to defend myself from two men twice my size and clearly fully capable of wiping out an entire nest single handedly.”

           “We rescued you, that should earn us at least _some_ brownie points,” Dean pointed out.

            Sam crossed his arms. “How about this. You put the knife in the nightstand. You know it’s there if you need it, I know it’s there if _I_ need it. You can even leave the drawer open if it makes you feel better, and I promise not to take it unless absolutely necessary.”

            Strangely, the suggestion softened me toward the tallest brother. Those hazel eyes were lethal, and he clearly was attached to the knife. Besides, I did not need to give them a reason to be more suspicious than they already were. Gritting my teeth against every instinct warning that it was a terrible idea, I grudgingly opened the drawer between us and dropped it in. The instant relief in his eyes calmed me, and the step he took back from me helped even more.

            “Thank you,” he murmured.

            “Now that you’ve got that sorted,” Dean rolled his eyes at Sam, “I found what we needed to break the warding. Sweetheart, just hold tight, this should only take a minute.” In a low tone he started an incantation, the sharp syllables of Latin lying heavy in the air. All four restraints warmed against my skin and I grabbed at the edge of the bed to anchor myself. I had tried to break the warding often enough that I knew what was coming. The handcuffs burned from a deep red to a blue heat and pain crawled through my veins, strengthening as if the curse was fighting back, resisting the counter spell that Dean was weaving. Heat swelled and slammed through my body, the pain stealing the air from my lungs.

            “Hurry. Please.” I gritted out, nails digging into the bedding. His eyes flickered up and his voice got louder as he spat out the final words of the counter curse. Dean dropped the book to the bed and he and Sam both lunged toward me as the cuffs disintegrated into bursts of flame. Dean grabbed my wrists to scrutinize them and Sam put out flames on my shredded jeans. “Damn it, Alex! How long have you been in those? The warding spell they used reinforces itself every sunrise.” He turned my hands over, suddenly taking stock of all the scars and open wounds covering them. “How long?” His hazel eyes were suddenly fierce, demanding.

            The pain receded to a dull roar and I could feel my fingertips again. The strength of his hands was calming, helping me focus. “What is today?”

            Sam checked his watch. “June 13th.”

            My stomach rolled. “They took me February 28th.”

            They both swore.

            Months. Three fucking months that they had taken from me. Three months of my life had been lost to darkness and fear…

            Dean reached out to touch my cheek and jerk me out of my daze, his eyes still intense. “You’re out now. It’s over. Everything is going to be ok.”

            I jerked away from his touch and struggled to my feet. “I need a shower.” I didn’t want his shoddy attempt at comfort. There was no such thing. They may have saved me from that hellhole but they had their own shit to deal with, and I had no illusions about them looking out for me. The only person that had my back was me. And no matter what happened, those demon bastards were never going to lay another hand on me again.

            Dean snagged his beer off the dresser and eased back, giving me some space. “Go right ahead. The pressure sucks but the water is hot and towels are on the counter. Yell if you need anything.”

            Nodding, I pulled out of his grasp and went to the small bathroom, closing the door behind me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! This is my first time ever sharing a story I wrote, and my first venture into fanfic! Could not stop watching the show and now can't quit thinking about it! Feel free to leave comments and feedback, I always want to improve my writing! This is only a piece of the story (at this point I have posted the first three pages of 65 pages I have written) and plenty more is on it's way! Please check back for more!
> 
> *Hello! Thanks so much for taking the time to read my little creation. I do not own Supernatural but sure do love borrowing the beloved characters and playing in their world for a short while.*


	3. From Prey to Hunter

            I leaned my forehead against the door for a long moment before letting out a deep breath. The hard part was done. I was out of that cellar. Now I just had to put myself back together enough to be on my way. It was disconcerting to realize I needed to gather my courage before raising my eyes to the mirror but I was glad I did. My skin was pallid, leaching life from my features and making my eyes look huge in my face. The dark brown of my hair was lost beneath grime and blood. Layers of bruising covered the left side of my face and my lips were split in several places. Countless cuts and half healed scars altered my features unrecognizably, and bite marks littered my neck. The only thing remaining of the old me was the green of my eyes, and even they were now dull and shadowed.

            Anger burned in my belly, blocking out every thought and making me light headed. Fuck hiding from monsters. Sam and Dean thought they had killed the entire nest, but I knew better. The big players wouldn’t have gone down so easy, and I knew they were already on my trail. They thought I was going to hide? Like hell I would run and cower away from the bastards. I would hunt the sons of bitches down, and every mark that had been placed on my body would be paid back in full. Everything suddenly came together in crystal clear focus. I had no family, no friends to go back to, no home waiting on me. I would learn to hunt the monsters that did this and prevent it from happening to anyone else. I tore at the button on my jeans, my fingers stiff and swollen as I shoved them down my legs and into a bloody, burned heap on the floor, my whole body vibrating with fury. Over and over my clothes had been removed from me and thrown into the corners of that cellar. I had spent days –months-- naked and vulnerable to whatever they wanted to do to me. But when they anchored me to the floor instead of the ceiling, or they left me on my own for a few precious moments between tormentors, I would scramble for those scraps of clothing to once again cover myself. They had become a reminder that I was still a person, not just a vessel that they drained, used, sliced, and discarded. The shreds of clothing from my previous life had sometimes been the only glue that had held me together. Now, they were just filthy rags holding nothing but memories.

            I kicked the heap to the side. The dull lightbulb over the sink revealed more slashes and half healed scars on the insides of my thighs and bruising finger marks on my hips. Never again. I clenched my fists, battling the overwhelming memories. It was all over. Done. I couldn’t do anything about the past, but from here on out I would become the hunter and they would become my prey.

            I grabbed the hem of my shirt and tried to haul it over my head but there was a flash of tearing sensation and fiery heat stole my breath as it clung to the gashes on my back and around my ribs. Gritting my teeth, I tried to ease the fabric loose of the clotting blood but black spots appeared in my vision and the small bathroom swirled for a long moment. Damn it. I just wanted a shower.  Was that too much to ask? It would have to be cut off and I cursed Sam for making me give up the knife. I stood there for several long moments, trying to find my equilibrium and come up with a better plan. I did not want to ask for help, damn it. Gritting my teeth, I gripped the edges of where it was already torn and caked with blood over my ribs and yanked with all my strength. It tore further but jerked the scabs loose over the wounds and sent a wave of agony bursting up in my spine, and fresh blood began trickling down my hip. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, battling a sudden pounding headache. Damn, damn, damn. “Dean?” I raised my voice and called again. “Dean, I need--”

            A soft knock at the door. “Alex?” He swept in, shrinking the small space until I felt like there was no air. “What’s wrong? The shower not working?” He shoved the shower curtain aside and tested the water which came on without a problem.

            I blew out a breath. “I need a pair of scissors, or a knife.” I plucked uselessly at the hem of my shirt, trying to casually wipe up the blood trickling down my leg. “It’ll just take a few minutes and I promise I’ll give them back.”

            Dean clenched his jaw and assessed me, his thoughts unreadable as I waited, tension knotting my muscles. I held my hand out, eyes narrowing when he didn’t immediately hand one over. Finally breaking eye contact, he shifted his stance and pulled a small knife from his pocket, flipping it open with a quick flick of his wrist. “You look like you’re about ready to pass out. Let me help you.”

            “No thank you. I just need the knife.” I tried to grab it out of his hand but he dodged me.

            “You won’t be able to do it.” He gestured to the claw marks across my shoulder. “You’ve got threads inside those, and you won’t be able to see. We need to clean them out. I’ve patched Sam up plenty of times--”

            “ _No_. Just give me—”

            “Here.” He slapped the small pocket knife in my hand and pulled a larger one out of thin air. “Now you can defend yourself if you feel the need but I _am_ helping you. Now turn around."

            Gritting my teeth, I flipped the small pocket knife around in my hand so the blade was toward my wrist, easier for an upward slash if I needed it in our tight quarters. I nodded once and turned to brace myself against the sink. Broad hands gathered my matted long hair and swept it over my shoulder to rest in front of me. I looked down at the cracked porcelain beneath my hands, unwilling to stare at myself in the mirror as the sound of material ripping filled the small space. I hated turning my back to him, putting myself in a weaker position but I couldn’t afford to get an infection. Not when I would be on my own soon. And if that was all that was keeping me out of the shower, then I could buckle down and get through it. I desperately needed a shower. I needed to feel human again, to wash them off me, to remove the memory of every moment of that place. This was the easy part, all I had to do was stand here. All I had to do was pretend that there wasn’t a very bulky man behind me with a huge knife in his hands cutting me out of my clothes. Instinctive panic started to crawl up my throat so I closed my eyes to focus, but suddenly all I could feel was the heavy press of large hands, the touch of fingers pressing into bruises and cuts. His two hands suddenly became ten and all of them were pulling, tearing at my clothes and ripping them from my body. I lurched away from the grasping hands and he nicked me, just at the small of my back.

              “Damn it, hold still.” His voice snapped me back to the present, dropping one hand to my belly to keep me in place and the phantom hands disappeared, leaving me cold and shaking in just his two, breath sawing out of me and my sweaty grip tight on the knife. I started repeating facts in my head, trying to nail down the present and shut out the past. I was in a shitty hotel room with my two rescuers. I was _not_ in immediate danger. Hotel room. Not in danger. _Hotel room. Not in danger._ “S-sorry.”

            “Just quit wriggling.” His bark calmed my spiking anxiety and I stilled beneath his firm touch. He resumed cutting me free, pulling matted fabric loose from open cuts a piece at a time. I blocked the pain from my mind. I would _not_ panic like that again. I refused to give in to fear. I could get a handle on this, the memories. I would.

            “Turn around.” The soft command pulled me from my thoughts and Dean gently turned my shoulders as his eyes scanned my face for a brief moment, gauging my frame of mind. “Almost done.” I gave a small nod and he turned back to the task at hand. The front of my shirt was in shreds, slashing claw marks stretching from my collar bone down across my breast and a matching set wrapping around the left side of my rib cage.  He set the knife aside and worked the fabric loose by hand. With the panic gone, self-consciousness crept in without my consent. On the worst nights in that hell hole, I had been told what a delight my overabundant curves were, then shown how much they appreciated--Damn it. I was _not_ going to be afraid. I wouldn’t let my thoughts keep me trapped in that cellar. Besides, Dean’s touch was completely different than theirs. Warm and firm but impersonal, his entire focus on his clinical task.

             Dean pulled the last of the fabric clinging to my skin and I fumbled for a towel, covering myself. “Thank you.” Sheer force of will brought my chin up and my apprehensive gaze to his.

            His eyes were dark, almost black in their intensity but his eyes weren’t on mine. He reached out slowly and moved the towel aside just enough to reveal a patch of fresh wounds stretching from my left hip to my ribcage. I inspected it more closely myself in the light. Over a hundred minute cuts connected to form a circular pattern that built one distinctive ring on another, almost a macabre tattoo. Krieger. That demon son of a bitch had definitely enjoyed his knives. His hours of … creativity were fresh in my mind.

            Dean gently grasped my shoulder and turned me again to face the mirror. He stepped closer behind me, his eyes on my back as I watched him in the mirror, tensed for action. He tugged on the towel until it sagged to the small of my back, leaving every inch of my spine open to the dim light cast by the single yellow lightbulb above us. He rested his hands on my hips and firmly turned me closer to it, his eyes intent. His gaze took in everything, the layers of strikes and broken skin and the bruising I could feel running up and down the back of my ribcage. His scrutiny catalogued each mark on my body as if words were unnecessary and every sordid detail were spelled out on my skin. I realized for hunters so familiar with fighting and injuries it would be easy to read. “Alex.”

            I met his eyes in the mirror, and they were cold, hard, and angry.

            “Take a shower and then we’ll stitch you up.” His hands dropped away and suddenly the bathroom felt cold. He opened the door and stepped out, turning to give me a pointed stare. “We still have a lot to talk about.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave comments and feedback, I always want to improve my writing! This is only a piece of the story and plenty more is on it's way! Please check back for more!
> 
> *Hello! Thanks so much for taking the time to read my little creation. I do not own Supernatural but sure do love borrowing the beloved characters and playing in their world for a short while.*


	4. Stitches

            They were arguing loudly when I stepped out of the bathroom. Their voices continued to rise as they prowled around the small living space.

            “You heard Bobby, we have only two more days to get to Stokes!”

            “You didn’t see her, Sammy. She’s been carved up like a Thanksgiving turkey. I knew she looked rough, but those bastards weren’t messing around. I don’t know how she’s staying on her feet– “

            “I hear you, and I wish that we could stay and make sure she’s ok but we did good. We got her out of that place and gave her somewhere to crash for a few days. We can even hole her up here and come back and check on her after we get Stokes if you want. She's tough, she'll manage just fine. But damn it, Dean, we have been after him for months! We can’t let one girl get in the way of capturing Stokes, there are too many lives at stake--!”

            “Sam, she’s barely holding it together. What happens when something comes after us and finds her here instead? She’s in no shape to defend herself! I can’t live with that on my conscience, and neither can you.” They shared a long look, heavy with words unspoken. “I’m not leaving her behind, Sammy.”

            “You think taking her with us is safer? A distraction is the last thing you need right now--“

            “She was down there for three and a half months, Sam. If you saw what those fuckers did--”

            “Hey!” They both stiffened at my sharp tone and turned toward me, angry testosterone filling the room. “No one is deciding where I go next but me. I appreciate you getting me out, but I’m not hanging around. I don’t need your pity. Or your charity. As soon as I’m dressed I’m out of here.”

            “Like hell!” Dean exploded. “You’re barely on your feet. No way am I letting you walk out that door!”

            I bristled and took a step toward him, tightening my death grip on my towel. “ _Letting_ me? I am going to do whatever I damn well please. I am not part of your little gang here. I don’t plan on holing up anywhere or playing hop-a-long for your little family adventures. I’m not your concern and you’re certainly not mine.”

            His eyes shot sparks but he flat out ignored me. “Damn it, Sam, just look at her!”

            Sam ran a hand over his face, eyeing me through his fingers. “But Stokes–”

            “Fuck Stokes!” Dean growled menacingly and both Sam and I pulled back. “We’re hunters. We sacrifice everything important to us so that people like her can stay safe. She’s not safe on her own right now, Sam. That means she goes with us.”

             “Are the two of you going to take me against my will?” I snapped but they both ignored me. “I’m not fucking going.”

            Sam stretched to his full height and Dean had to tilt up his head to maintain his intense glare. “If we don’t stop Stokes then he and Faulkner will keep hurting people just like her. We can’t afford to mess this up.”

            “I’m not asking, Sam. She’s coming.” The moment stretched out uncomfortably as they just scowled at each other, as if an entire conversation were happening telepathically.

            “Damn it, Dean! You sure picked a hell of a time to play hero.” Sam shoved past him and yanked open the flimsy motel door. Sunlight and bird song beamed in contrast to the tension roiling in the room. “I’ll talk to Bobby to see if we can take her there for a few days. But just for the record, I think this is a terrible idea.”

            “I’m not going with you!” I shouted as the door slammed behind him before turning threateningly toward Dean. Fuck the high and mighty bastards!

            Dean got right up in my face. “You sure as hell are! You don’t have to like it, and you don’t have to be happy about it. But I – _we_ are going to make sure you have somewhere safe to heal up. No matter how much you argue with me, you have to admit that you desperately need food, sleep, and stitches, and not in that order.”

            “So I’ll go to the hospital. I don’t need you two goons deciding to run my life.” I tried to brush past him but he grabbed my arm. “Don’t fucking touch me!”

            “Sit down, Alex. I’m not trying to hurt you.”

            “Then get your hands off me!”

            “ _No_.” The firmness of that single word brought me up short. “I seem to be the only one concerned that you’re barely held together with adrenaline and sheer stubbornness, and I am going to make damn sure that you don’t end up bleeding out all over this nasty motel carpet. Now stop arguing with me and _sit the fuck down_.” The tension was thick as I stared into his eyes, gauging his level of seriousness. There wasn’t an inch of give in his gaze. I slowly sank down to the bed. “Now was that so hard?” He huffed.

            I wanted to punch him. “Stitches. That’s all I’m agreeing to.”

            He clenched his jaw and released my arm. “Fine. Stitches and then we’ll talk.” He grabbed a beer off the dresser and drained it before banging it back down and making me jump. “I’m trying to protect you, Alex. Why are you making it so damn difficult?”

            I snorted. “I’ve never been protected a day in my life. I don’t put anyone at my back unless I know without a doubt that they won’t put a knife in it. I don’t know you or your brother and I sure as hell don’t trust either of you. So. Let’s get me put back together and I’ll be on my way.”

            He crossed to his duffel bag and pulled out a needle, thread, gauze and tape and I faced him stoically. “You’re in bad shape, Alex. It’s not like you just got cornered and got the shit beat out of you. You need to rest –”

            “Quit lecturing me or I will walk out that door right now. I have survived this long without a nagging Winchester in my life and I certainly don't need one now.”

             He rolled his eyes at me. “Fine. Tilt.” He gestured to my shoulder and I turned away from him to give him better access. There were four gouges stretched from the back of my shoulder all the way to the top of my breast, my shoulder laid open straight to the muscle and collarbone. He fell silent as he mopped up the blood that had escaped since my shower. I hadn’t noticed but blood had been dripping steadily down my arm ever since I got out. It chilled me to realize I was so accustomed to the feel of blood on my skin that it hadn’t even registered. Dean braced one hand at the base of my neck and adjusted the line of my shoulder. The sharp pinch of the first stitch forced a hissing breath out of me and his fingers along my neck curled gently into my jawline with a steady calming pressure. “Easy.”

             “Just get it done.”

             He grunted. It felt like hours later that he finally knotted the last neat line of tiny stitches in my shoulder. Clearly he had been telling the truth about having some experience patching Sam up. “I think you deserve a beer after that,” he rumbled, tossing a wad of bloody gauze on the dresser. “Maybe it will help loosen you up.”

             “I’m plenty loose.” I winced as I gave an experimental stretch to the stitches and they pulled tight and held.

             Dean snorted. “Sure you are. You’re all calm and relaxed and ready to express your undying gratitude for being rescued and for me sticking my neck out for you with Sam.”

              I stiffened. “You rescued me, I’m not arguing that. But I hardly think you saved my life.”

              His gaze turned shrewd. “If this is what three months looks like on you, what do you think they would’ve managed in six months? A year? We definitely saved your life, princess.”

              “So, now what? You think I owe you?” Damn it, but I did. Huge. A debt I had no intention of repaying. Getting out of their lives was the best thing I could do for them. Somehow in the cosmos, that would have to make us square.

              “Don’t think of it like that, think of it as never quite knowing when we will show back up in your life, but knowing for damn sure that we will.” He winked as if I was supposed to be thrilled at the prospect.

            Instead, a cold wash of anxiety rippled down my back. “Once I walk out that door I hope to God I never see either of you again.”

            He winced, pressing a hand to his chest in mock pain. “So harsh. But trouble seems to find you, and knowing that we may show up to save the day again should be something of a comfort. And when we _do_ show up, a nice cold six pack and a home cooked meal should even out the score.”

            Fuck me if terror didn’t grip me by the throat at just the thought of ever being back in that kind of trouble. I desperately struggled to gather up enough anger to loosen its hold. “Screw that. I don’t owe you anything, Dean Winchester.”

            “Hey, no reason to get feisty—” He straightened out of his slouch.

            I let the anger fill me with a flush of heat. “Fuck you Winchester boys and your high and mighty opinions of yourselves. A few more days and I would’ve figured out the counter-curse on the cuffs and gotten _myself_ out. Don’t expect me to go falling at your feet in gratitude.” I would survive without any more stitches. I just needed some clothes and I could get the hell out of here.

             He shifted to a defensive stance. “Hey now, calm down, it was just a joke.”

            He was starting to get irritated? Screw him. I was getting angrier by the second and welcomed the fact that it was beginning to burn through the fear. Fuck clothes. I was blowing this popsicle stand. I shoved past him and managed a handful of steps before he flung an arm around my waist and jerked me to a halt. I slammed an elbow back into his stomach and drew forth an angry grunt but he just wrapped his other arm around me. “Calm down, Alex, you’re not going anywhere. It’s not safe.” I kicked out at him and he hauled me up and dropped me on the bed beside us. I scrambled to roll over and kicked out at him again.  
            “Easy, Alex, you’re bleeding – Easy! Hey! Listen to me!” Dean rumbled and pinned me down.

            His weight was suffocating, his broad shoulders blocking out the light in the room. Blood rushed to my head and the anger disappeared, leaving desolate terror. I bucked into him, trying to shift his weight but he just shifted his legs to pin me down more. I frantically tried to get some air, to move beneath him to ease up the crushing weight on my ribs but he just pressed down harder. I could see his mouth moving but no noise reached me over the roaring in my ears. I struggled and gasped at him, “You bastard! I’m not afraid of you!” My vision started blackening and I fought it, knowing if I gave in I could end up right back where I started, tied to a chair with no chance in hell of defending myself from whatever he chose to do to me.

            “Alex, damn it, relax! You’re safe!” His weight left me and blinding white light and noise came roaring back to me in a rush.

            I gasped as air punched into my tight lungs and I bent over the side of the bed, grasping at the garbage can and pulling it under me just in time to lose what little I had in my stomach. Blood pounded in my temples and stomach acid burned coming back up. The spasms finally eased and I pushed myself up onto my knees, arms shaking. I opened my eyes to find Dean hovering beside me and I was unable to tell by his stance if he was retreating or preparing to come at me again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Hello! Thanks so much for taking the time to read my little creation. I do not own Supernatural but sure do love borrowing the beloved characters and playing in their world for a short while.*


	5. I Can't Tell What's Real

            I spit into the garbage can. “I don’t owe you shit, Dean Winchester. You plan to take your dues anyway? You go right ahead and try, but I will _not_ make it easy for you.”

            He paled and then flushed an angry red. “I am only going to tell you this once, and we are never going to have this conversation again.” His rough growl snapped my attention to his eyes, and the barely leashed fury there sent a chill down my spine. “I am no rapist. Someone that can do that to a woman is a monster in my book and I will burn them to ash without an ounce of regret. Do you understand me? I don’t care if they’re human. I won’t leave enough left to bury.”

             Oh god. My stomach pitched again and I let my head drop to rest on the back of my hands. Terror still had it's claws sunk in me but his repulsed conviction warned me that I had colossally fucked up this time.  _Hotel room. Not in danger. Hotel room. Not in danger._ I had spooked, plain and simple, and I wanted to kick my own ass for the panicky weakness still making my arms tremble. Anyone could tell by looking in Dean Winchester’s eyes that he would never do something like that. He may think he was a law unto himself, but for all his faults honor just oozed out the man’s pores. The illusion that I would be able to just push past the panic and memories to soldier on as my old self evaporated in an instant. “Dean-”

            “I get that you’ve been through a lot, but if there is one thing you need to know about me and my brother it’s that we only go after the monsters. Are you paying attention?”

            I nodded, words gone.  
            “You’re under our protection now, which means that we will put our necks on the line for you and we will take down any monster that comes after you. But in return you lose the luxury of doubting that we’re on your side.”

            “I’m not asking you to protect me,” I croaked. "I'll be out of here as soon as--"

            “If you step out that door alone, any monster in a 100-mile radius will know you’re an easy target and come running. They’ll make the last three months look like a picnic.”

             “But—”

             “I won’t let that happen. For better or worse, you now have two Winchesters watching your back. We will get you somewhere safe where you can heal—”

             “Dammit, Dean, listen to me! I can handle myself—”

             “You can’t!” He snapped, at the end of his patience. “You thought I was trying to rape you and you couldn’t even throw me off! I wasn’t even putting all my weight on you. If I had been trying to attack you, you were completely helpless. When you’ve healed enough that you can knock me on my ass we can have this discussion again.” The fury in his eyes had receded but the unshakable certainty was resolute. That conviction somehow calmed the whirlwind inside me, settling it down to a muted roar and I could see the reality of my situation. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea, resting up. If I went after any demons now I would end up dead or recaptured. I just needed a good night’s rest and some food. A couple days, tops. Surely the demons wouldn’t be able to find me that quickly. The Winchesters basically lived off grid as it was.

            Silence grew between us and I swallowed hard. “If I stay, you swear to me that I can walk out that door of my own free will at any time.”

            His jaw clenched. “The only reason I'm not letting you leave this minute is because I’m trying to protect you.” He swallowed hard. “There are going to be a lot of things out there that you’re going to be afraid of for a while. Things you _should_ be afraid of. But I am not one of them, and neither is Sam. We would never hurt you, Lex.”

            “Swear to me that I'm free to leave,” I demanded.

            His eyes glittered. “I swear when you are able to throw me back on my ass and take down Sam, we will happily drop you off anywhere you want and you’ll be on your way.”

            I felt raw, exposed, but couldn’t keep a confession from tumbling out, disguised as a warning. “I can’t tell what’s real sometimes. Things that happened…” I swallowed. “I feel like they start happening again and I get stuck in the memories. I don’t even see what’s happening _now._ ”

            “You’ll figure it out. The longer you’re out the more those memories will feel different, darker. They’ll make you feel like you’re underwater and everything reaches you through a fog. If you feel that darkness coming, you let me know. Sam and I will watch your back and help you through it. We’ve both been there before, Alex. Trust us to help.” Dean took a deep breath. “Now, let's get back on track. We need to finish getting you stitched up.”

             The sooner he stitched me up, the sooner I healed. The sooner I healed the faster I could leave them and all the memories behind. I slowly crawled to the end of the bed where he could reach me again. I just sat there facing him in a crouch, my heart still racing at an uneven pace. He ran a hand down his face and it rasped against his five o’clock shadow. “Nothing is ever going to be easy with you, is it?”

             I didn’t answer.

             He disappeared toward the bathroom for a long moment before emerging with a couple more towels. “I need to see your back next. These will keep you covered.”

             It wasn’t like he hadn’t already seen everything in the bathroom but I was absurdly grateful for the gesture. I spread a towel out beneath me on the bed and lay down, wiggling the towel around until it covered my butt and the back of my thighs but left my back bare. The stuffy air conditioning skittered across my skin and I buried a wince in the back of my arms. Silence fell and Dean didn’t move a muscle. Then, long anxious moments later, very soft touches skated around the edges of the welts and broken skin. “No stitches needed. Those are going to hurt like a bitch as they heal and the bruising has only gotten started but you’ll be all right. Just let me put some antiseptic on.” Icy cold pinpricks aggravated my back as he blotted a damp washcloth over me quickly and efficiently. “Flip over.”

             He avoided my gaze as I adjusted the towels and cautiously settled on my back, one draped across my hips and the other covering my chest, leaving everything else bare. I sucked a short breath in through my teeth as my full weight pressed the comforter into the now stinging welts on my back.

            “Settled?”

             I nodded tightly. The room fell silent as Dean turned the full force of his attention on the damage. My grasp tightened on the towel across my breasts as his gaze shuttered and his mouth pinched. He braced one hand on the only clear patch of skin stretching from my belly button to my sternum, his fingers overlapping both as he gently rolled me up on one side to assess Krieger’s markings in the light. “Was this done in one setting or layers?”

              “One afternoon.”

              Dean blew out an angry breath. “Does anything feel … wrong … inside? Any internal damage from all this?”

              I shook my head. It still felt fresh and inflamed but nothing I couldn’t handle.

             “Good. Whoever it was is a sick son of a bitch but he knew what he was doing. These, however…” His voice trailed off as his touch skated across my torn ribs. “These need stitches.” I didn’t bother responding as he poured antiseptic on everything and the needle and thread reappeared. The room was quiet, with just the ticking of the clock and Dean’s absolute focus was on his work. The silence started eating at me around the 48th stitch. “Who taught you how to sew?”

              “My dad. He always said that anything a girl can do we can do better.” His mouth quirked at the corner.

              I almost smiled at that. “Tell me about him.”

             “He raised us as hunters. The three of us … We went through a lot together. He taught us everything, kept us alive by sheer determination more times than I can count. He was the greatest hunter I know.”

             I wondered what kind of man could raise two boys on his own in that kind of life. A hard one, to be sure. “Was?”

             Dean clenched his jaw. “Demon took him out.” Silence fell again for a tense moment before he visibly pulled himself out of the memories and turned the conversation around on me. “Did you know about monsters before they took you?”

             I took my time choosing an answer, and decided simple was best. “Yes.”

             That brought his eyes up to mine. “How old were you when you found out?”

             I tried to remember. “Six, maybe?”

             He stopped stitching altogether. “What happened?”

             I sighed, pulling away from him a little. “My parents died when I was little. I got a crash course in monsters when I was placed in a foster home, and I ran away as soon as I could. I learned pretty quickly that there were a lot of things out there that weren’t human, and if I wanted to stay alive I had to learn to fight the sick bastards out there, whether they were human or not.”

            “So you’ve hunted before.” 

            “More like learned to defend myself. Pure survival. I don’t go looking for trouble but it seems to find me. Now, when it does, I can take care of it.”

            “Until you’re in over your head with no backup and get abducted by a demon/vampire nest. Which is still bugging me.” A muscle clenched in his jaw as he went back to work. “I've never seen demons go hunting for vamps. Ever. Hell, I’ve never seen demons and vampires have a civil conversation let alone share the same nesting space. And why you? There was no sign of any other hostages anywhere near that place. Something about all this doesn’t add up.”

             A sudden chill of foreboding trickled down my spine. He needed to leave it alone. It was not his problem. All I needed was for them to hide me for a couple days and I would get out of their lives before my path crossed the demons again.

             Dean tied off a row of stitches and wiped his hands on a bloody towel. “There. You’re pieced back together. We just need to wrap your leg and the rest can hold for now.”

             I adjusted my towels and managed to get myself in a sitting position stiffly. Every inch of me burned now and even though I knew it was a good sting it was nauseating. Dean gently pulled my leg over his lap as he settled in beside me on the bed. His scarred fingers traced the edges of a burn high on my thigh. “How did you get this one?”

             Searing pain and Krieger’s maniacal laughter immediately came to mind. “Flat side of a knife. Heated. Compliments of our same friend.” I gestured to the carving on my side.

             Dean leaned back for a second look. He swore softly. The carved initials beneath the burn were clear: L.K. “Let’s just wrap it for now. I’ll keep an eye on it.” With deft motions he saturated the gauze with an amber liquid and wrapped it tightly around my thigh, the lines around his mouth deepening. He made quick work of checking if anything else needed attention before wrapping my ribs and hip in more gauze, covering the rest of Krieger’s handiwork without a word. He deftly used an ace bandage to add some extra padding to my damaged ribs before handing me a pair of clothes. It was a t-shirt, jeans, and a green button up. I tugged the outfit on stoically, trying to ignore his scent on the clothes and the intimacy of them rubbing against my skin. It made me think of varsity jackets and boyfriend sweaters, and all the innocent ways girls burrowed their presence into their men’s lives when life was simple. When there were no monsters.

             “Here, you’ll need this, too.” He handed me a small pendant, it looked like one of those ones you get out of a vending machine for a quarter. “It prevents demon possession.” He pulled down the collar of his t-shirt and showed me a tattoo over his chest, a star on fire, the exact same design as the necklace in my hand. “Sam has one too.”

             I clutched it, the sharp edges digging into my fingers. “Thank you.”

             “We’ll get you a tattoo when we get a chance but that will have to do for now. Don’t ever take it off.”

             I had just placed it over my head when the front door slammed open and Sam stalked in, eyes blazing and gun in his hands. 

             “Step away from her, Dean.” Sam was in full out hunter mode, his gun pulled and sighted at my head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Hello! Thanks so much for taking the time to read my little creation. I do not own Supernatural but sure do love borrowing the beloved characters and playing in their world for a short while.*


	6. Chinuitor

            “Step away from her, Dean.” Sam was in full out hunter mode, his gun pulled and sighted at my head. I scrambled backward until my back hit the headboard and then froze.

            “Sam, what the hell is going on?” Dean said warningly, stepping between us with his hands raised. Sam lowered the gun so it wasn’t pointed at his brother’s chest but kept his eyes trained on mine.

            “I just got off the phone with Bobby. He caught a vamp that escaped that nest. _Her_ nest.” He gestured toward me with the gun and Dean angrily jerked it from his grasp.

            “Quit waving that thing around. Tell me what that has to do with you coming in here all Rambo.”

            Sam shot him a disgruntled look but let him keep the weapon, just pulled a knife from one of his pockets and side-stepped his brother so he had a clean line of sight again. Dean stayed where he was, but instead of putting the gun away he had palmed it himself, merely waiting for Sam to convince him I was a threat. _Fuck_. So much for _you now have two Winchester’s on your side_ and his unwavering determination to protect me.

            “Bobby said that the vamp was freshly made and happy to talk, to explain what the hell was going on in that fucked up mess. Alex isn’t just a pawn in Faulkner’s game, Dean.”

            Tension rippled across Dean’s shoulders, and his grip flexed on the gun. “What do you mean?”

            My blood ran cold. I had no idea who Faulkner was or what the hell was going on but I felt the distinct shift in the air that warned me all my secrets were about to come out. “Dean, listen—”

            Sam ignored me. “Faulkner had given the nest direct orders that they were all there to protect something. Protect _her._ She’s their healer, Dean.” Sam’s eyes were fierce and terrifying. They were hunter’s eyes and I was the prey.

            Fuck being prey again. “Protect me?” I exploded, vibrating with tension. “They’re the ones that tortured me! I never healed those sons of bitches, not once. I was not working for them, Dean, you have to believe--”

            Dean cut me off, anger pouring off him in waves. “When were you going to mention this? You think losing their _healer_ isn’t reason enough for the rest of the nest to come hunting us? Damn it, I warned you—” Dean bit off the rest of his sentence, eyes blazing.

            _If you bring hell to my door, I will personally kick your ass and leave you where they can find you._

            “There’s more.” Sam’s furious tone raked across my nerve endings as his gaze locked with Dean’s. “They were turning her into a Chinuitor.”

            What the hell?

            “The vamp didn’t know when it started, but if they have even partially turned her we need to put her down _now_ , Dean. She’s too dangerous.”

            Ice slithered down my spine. “What were they doing to me? What’s a Chinuitor?”

            Dean turned to me, his dark eyes intense. “Chinuitors are powerful healers. They’re so powerful that they can manipulate cellular structure on any being, able to heal even a mortal wound just by touch. But a human only half turned into a Chinuitor? That’s like putting a nuclear reactor inside a paper bag.”

            I felt all the blood drain from my face. The weight of their agitation was suddenly pressing heavily on me and I wondered distantly if I wouldn’t rather choose to face off with angry demons. “How could I not know if they were doing something like that to me? Turning me _into_ something?”

            Sam began to pace. “We can’t risk it. Damn it, Dean, you know her story never made sense. She said vamps fed on her in the beginning, a whole group of them. And then what, they just suddenly lost interest? Vampires kill their meals, Dean, and they sure as hell don’t share with demons. You knew there had to be something bigger going on there.”

            Dean rubbed a hand down his face in agitation.

             “Chinuitors, can they heal themselves? Can they?” I demanded from Sam when Dean didn’t answer. “If I was an all-powerful healer, why would I choose not to heal myself? Why would I leave their marks all over my body? I’m not some damn monster!”

             “The problem isn’t you being a Chinuitor, Alex.” Sam bit out, suddenly clenching his fists. “It’s with the conversion not being completed. Your entire body is in flux right now and you won’t be able to control that much power. You’re a walking combustion risk.” His gaze shot to his brother but Dean just clenched his jaw and avoided eye contact. “I need to know you’re with me on this, Dean. There are over 100 people in this motel and it’s too dangerous to have her here and you know it.”

            “No, Sam.”

            “Damn it, Dean, we don’t have a choice!”

            “I said no, Sam!”

            Dean nearly radiated resolve and it pushed Sam over the edge. “I’m sorry but I _am_ protecting those people. They don’t deserve to die like this.”

            Sam suddenly leapt across the distance separating us, grabbing his favorite knife out of the open drawer as he went. I choked on a scream as he attacked, throwing up my arms in defense as he crashed both of us into the headboard and I panicked trying to fight him off. This was it. This was how it was going to end. In a shitty motel room, after everything I’d been through my rescuers were going to kill me right here in this bed. I was suddenly hot, so very hot that I felt like I was burning from the inside out. I grasped the wrist of the hand holding the knife and my other hand landed flat on his chest, trying to shove him away. My fingers curled convulsively against Sam’s broad chest and the extreme heat suddenly left me in a rush, flowing into Sam’s body. I could feel it curling around inside him and mapping every injury in his body from bruises to half healed broken fingers to the broken nose I had delivered just this morning. The heat gathered all of the injuries and yanked them from his body unwillingly, sucking them through where my fingers pressed against him and pulling them into my own body with a wracking shudder. I felt the bones break in my nose and fingers with a sickening crunch and couldn’t hold back a whimper as I used all of my rapidly dwindling strength to throw Sam off me and onto the floor, the knife clattering beside him.

            “Damn it, Sam, are you insane?” Dean picked him up off the floor and nearly threw him to the other bed. “You think she’s dangerous because she’s out of control and you _attack_ her?”

            Sam gathered himself in a crouch. “What the hell was that?!”

            “What do you mean? What’s going on?” Dean came toward me, tense, but seemed unsure which person to direct his energy at.

            Sam flexed his freshly healed fingers and I curled my broken ones stoically. “She … healed me, but she didn’t.”

            “What the hell does that mean?” Dean growled, pausing.

            Maybe I could still save this, save myself. Maybe it didn’t have to end here. I just had to show them that I was a regular healer, not of the monster variety. Once they saw that, I could tackle trying to explain to them that I had never once healed a monster, and there was no way in hell that I _belonged_ to that nest. Wordlessly I stretched out to Dean and touched his leg, that heat flaring again painfully and I could feel it searching him for injury. Dean jerked away from my touch and I bit back a scream as the heat fought to stay connected. I could feel it stretching from my fingers and spreading inside him for the final gathering before it wrenched his injuries into my body. I dropped to the bed limply, my breath stuttering out roughly.  Cuts opened up along my hands and knuckles and my jaw ached as if it were a half step away from being broken. I felt as if my ribs were cracked and I stiffened my spine against the exhaustion that nearly pressed me to the bed, stomach rolling nauseously.

            Dean stumbled back, his eyes flared wide and his hand went to his healed ribs. His gaze darted from where I cradled my broken fingers against my belly to Sam’s completely healed left hand. “What the hell did you just do? That’s _not_ healing.”

            I pulled myself to a sitting position, leaning heavily against the headboard, gritting my jaw against the pain. “Listen. I am _not_ a monster. All I can do is transfer injuries to myself, and even then it doesn’t always work.” I stumbled to my feet. I could feel shock setting in. The Winchester boys had hidden a lot of injuries under their swagger, and I struggled to gather myself back together. Shivers overtook me but I held to my feet, one arm braced against the wall. “Those bastards did a hell of a lot things to me in that cellar but turning me into a monster wasn’t one of them.”

            “Fuck whatever you are or aren’t,” Dean growled. “You can’t handle any more right now and we’re not done talking. Transfer everything back to us. We can handle the busted fingers and bruises. You look like you’re going to pass out.”

            “I can’t give it back. It … doesn’t work that way.” My voice was getting thready, even to my own ears. The wall began to take more of my weight.

            Dean growled and I couldn’t tell if it was in anger or frustration. “Then heal yourself. Transfer it somewhere else!”

            “I can’t! You think if I could do that, I wouldn’t have transferred all this shit to those demons? All I can do is take someone’s injuries inside myself. Sometimes it heals, sometimes it doesn’t.” I shifted on my feet, propping my full weight against the wall and trying to clear the spots from my vision. It felt like my insides had been ripped out, beaten to a bloody pulp, and then put back inside me in the wrong order. I had never tried to do it twice in a row, and healing two hunters who fought for a living was a hell of a bad idea all by itself. I would be lucky if I hadn’t ruptured something.

            “Dean, she’s weak – it’s too dangerous—”

            “Shut up a minute and let’s figure this mess out. Alex.”

            His voice reached me distantly and I tried to pull my focus back to him and the conversation but everything was getting hazy. I tried to take a step but my knees buckled. Rough hands caught me and lowered me back to the soft mattress. The jumbled up mess inside me began to heat up, and an angry flush chased up my neck to my hairline and back to my toes, my skin burning against the sheets.

            “Damn it, Alex, quit screwing around. Hey! Snap out of it!” He ran his hand down the side of my face and I flinched away from his icy touch. “Son of a bitch! You’re burning up. Sam, quick, bring me some water. Come on, Alex, sit up. You’re all right, just look at me a minute. You okay?” He pulled me up beside him but I struggled against his grasp.

            “Fine…” _Hot, so hot…_ “I’m fine, Dean…”

            “Sam, she’s still getting warmer -- do something!”

            “What do you want me to do? She’s out of control, Dean, we need to get her out of here!”

            “’m okay…”

            They both ignored me. “Cas, damn it! Do you hear me? Castiel, we need you!” They both froze for a long moment as if expecting something to happen. “Damn it! Where the hell is he? Call Bobby. She’s not dying from damage she took from us, you hear me? We figure this out.” The snap of Dean’s voice brought me closer to the surface and I managed to blink blearily at him.

            “Stay with me, sweetheart, we’ll get you through this. Can you heal yourself at all?”

 _Warm… clothes too warm.._. I just wanted to crawl out of my skin. I managed to shake my head and the brothers swore in unison.  

            “Bobby? It’s Sam. We have a situation –”

            “Hurry it up, Sam, she’s fading!”

            Sam’s voice picked up pace. “Things got complicated. She’s not a full blown Chinuitor _or_ a healer – Bobby, would you listen? We need help. She can transfer injuries but only to herself. She was in bad shape when we found her and she took all the injuries from Dean and I – it wasn’t that many! Of course we’re being careful. Anyway, we think it was too much—I don’t know where Cas is! He’s not answering.”

           “Damn it, Sam, cliff notes! Hand me the damn phone!” Dean’s voice snapped me back again, this time with enough force I felt semi-alert, realizing that my body felt separate from me and I could feel every individual bruise and cut and scar as if it had just been inflicted at once. “Bobby, something is really wrong. She went from bright red to no color in her face and she feels like she’s running at least a 110-degree temperature, and she’s shaking, almost seizing. No, I don’t think so – hell if I know! They had her for three damn months, Bobby, she’s in bad shape! How close are you? ...That’s too far, you’ve got to give me something _now_!”

            A cool wash cloth was suddenly placed on the back of my neck and I flinched away, the moisture sizzling painfully. “She’s literally burning up, Bobby! Figure something out!” He adjusted my position against him. “It’s worth a try. Sam, grab that stuff, the doctor stuff. You said it's green, Bobby? Light green or dark green? Sam, that one. Hurry up.”

            A cold splash of water hit my face and my lungs squeezed in shock. I jack-knifed up, gasping at the piercing pain the movement caused. Dean tossed the phone to Sam and grabbed my face firmly, dumping something cool and syrupy down my throat. I swallowed with a cough, trying to pull limply out of his grasp. The coolness doused the heat inside me in a rush. I slumped against the headboard before drawing in a deep shuddering breath. Big, broad hands pressed against my face and pushed the hair off my forehead.

            I opened my eyes to find Dean perched at my side, his eyes concerned and his adrenaline running high. I swallowed hard. “That didn’t feel so good.”

            Dean pulled in a measured breath and released it slowly. “Warn me the next time you’re going to go inferno, would you?” Weariness laced his tone and his fingers tangled in my hair absently.

            “Dean.” Sam started to speak in a low tone but Dean cut him off with a sharp look.

            “Let’s table the discussion for now. I think we all need a breather.”

            I relaxed against the headboard, every inch of my body aching. Sam settled on the other bed without a word, keeping a wary eye on me.

            Dean shifted my limp weight, stretching me beside him before getting up to retrieve something from the satchel. “Try to drink some more water.” His tone was distant but his eyes still intense. Moments passed in long silence as I sipped from the bottle under their intense scrutiny, trying to hide the shakes in my hands. The green liquid, whatever it was, had calmed the powerful heat in my bones and left me feeling unsteady. Saved my life, no doubt, but now I felt weak in a way I couldn’t identify.

            “Has that ever happened before?”

            I shook my head. “I’ve never tried to handle so much at once.”

            Dean clenched his jaw. “That was a damn fool thing to do, Alex, and we _will_ be talking about it later. But for now, just rest.” Dean settled beside me on the bed, flicking the TV on to a low hum, and stretching his arm out along the top of the headboard, jaw tight and eyes pinned to the flickering images.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would love to hear feedback! Chapter six I have written and rewritten a dozen times, still not thrilled with how it is (so be prepared for it to be rewritten in the near future haha). But I wanted to keep the story moving and get on to the good parts! This is my first venture into fanfic and having such a huge reader base already is nerve wracking. I am always wanting to improve my writing so please, leave comments! I would love to hear what you liked or disliked, or things I can do better in the upcoming chapters!
> 
> *Hello! Thanks so much for taking the time to read my little creation. I do not own Supernatural but sure do love borrowing the beloved characters and playing in their world for a short while.*


	7. End of Discussion

            It was late, the low drone of the television the only sound in the small room. Sam had finally sacked out on the other bed and Dean was sprawled beside me, a beer in one hand and the other had dropped to my back. I had dozed off and on, but every time I slid into anything more than a light sleep Dean would hold a cool beer to my face, or a cold wash cloth on my neck. Combined with him waking me up several times for a dose of the green syrupy medicine, I felt even more exhausted. I had never had this strong of a reaction, and my weakness made me anxious. Hours had passed and it wasn’t any better. Even resting a day or two with the Winchesters was not going to have me back on my feet. It _had_ been a damn fool thing to do but I couldn’t regret it. Sam would’ve killed me and even now Dean was the only thing keeping that from happening.

             Movement pulled me from my thoughts as Sam rose from the other bed and made his groggy way to the bathroom. Dean looked down at me and noticed that my eyes were open. “Morning.”

             “Is it morning?” I muttered. “You never slept.”

             “I’ll catch a few hours later while we drive. How do you feel?”

             I stretched and instantly regretted it, pain tearing at my stitches and every inch of me stiff and sore. I curled back into a small ball and tucked my chin into the covers, his presence oddly calming the chaotic swirl of confusion inside me. “Fine.”

             “Alex.” His frustrated tone brought me out of the comforter and reluctantly I rebuilt my defensive walls. I slid behind a cold expression, reminding myself that this was all temporary. Just because he took care of me when I was at my weakest didn’t mean that I was safe to relax my guard.

            I forced myself to a sitting position and leaned against the headboard. “I said I’m fine, Dean.”

            He let out a long breath. “Just let me know when you start feeling … off again, okay? This stuff from Bobby is some crazy powerful stuff, supposed to be a one-time dose. But your temperature spiked a few times last night and I didn’t want to take any chances. Your body needs a chance to heal.”

            Sam emerged from the bathroom and raised an eyebrow at seeing me awake. “Feeling better?”

            I nodded.

            Dean got up and turned the TV off and leaned against the dresser, his eyes serious. “We need to come up with a game plan.”

            “I agree.” Sam crossed his arms and planted himself at the end of the other bed.

            “We need to clear the air on a few things--”

            “Before we get into that, you need to know that Bobby thinks that the power spikes if her emotions get elevated. The more upset she gets, the bigger the risk to everyone around her.” Sam gave Dean a hard look.

            “Then that makes you attacking her last night an even stupider decision, doesn’t it?” Dean snapped back. “Look, we have to talk this thing through. Alex, try to keep yourself calm. Sammy, you do the same and we can all get through this. At this point there is one thing I am absolutely certain of, Alex: you are not a Healer. Sam and I have gone to Healers more times than I can count, and this? What you call healing? Is not normal. Healer’s _heal._ They mix their ingredients or chant their spells or just doctor us up and the injuries go away. This transference or whatever you do is not normal healer mojo.”

            I swallowed hard. The little information I had managed to gather about my ability throughout my life was virtually useless. I knew I could do it and that was about it. I had tried to bury it so deep inside me that no one would ever find out, and the first interrogation after my abduction had been a shock. I still had no idea how they had found out. “Are there a lot of healers out there?”

            Sam gave me an assessing look. “Not nearly enough. One healer for about every twenty hunters. How old were you when you started?”

            I chewed my lip. “Six?”

            “Did you know what you were doing?”

            I went cold at the faint memories. “I just knew it started to hurt when I touched people.”

            The boys shared a look, and Dean’s eyes began to darken. “Why did you leave your foster home?”

            “The husband … he was a Ghoul.” Sick mother fucker. He had killed the original Jeff Parker and fed on him long enough to gain his memories and mimic his life. Finding out my foster dad was munching on human flesh in the basement had definitely not been a highlight of my childhood.

             Dean scowled. “How long were you there before you ran away?”

             “Almost a year.”

             Sam swore. “You’re telling me you were on your own? By _seven_? Out there?”  

             I somehow managed a nonchalant shrug. “I learned to take care of myself.”

             Sam raised an eyebrow at me. “That doesn’t seem to have worked out very well for you.” He gestured to the bit marks still littering my neck.

            I sucked in a hissing breath through my teeth. “Fuck off, Sam. You don’t know a fucking thing about me!”  
            “Hey, easy!” Dean made a calming gesture. “We are all working on the same thing here – trying to keep you safe.”

            “Sam still wants to kill me!” I dragged my legs beneath me into a more defensive position, glaring at them both.

            Sam let out a heavy breath. “I don’t want to kill you. I think those bastards changed you into something, and not knowing exactly how much of you isn’t human makes you dangerous. I think anyone around you is in jeopardy right now and we need to get you as far from all these people as we can.”

            “Sammy--” Dean warned.

            “I don’t want to fight with you, Dean.” Sam snapped. “I’m not going to kill her. But I don’t think we can in good conscience keep her around other people knowing how high the risk is. Besides, we still don’t know exactly what her role was in that nest.”

            Dean growled angrily. “If you would get your head out of your ass for one minute, you would recognize what three moth old scars look like.” Dean grabbed my hand off the bed and shoved it toward his brother. Sam gritted his teeth and stepped closer, eyeing the distinct faint lines on the top of my forearm. He swore softly. “That’s right, Sam, if they were cutting her up as soon as they had her then it’s pretty obvious she was never working with them. So quit being a jackass and let’s figure this out.”

            Sam took a step back and a tense breath eased out of me that I didn’t realize I had been holding. “Ok, but that doesn’t change the fact that she’s still dangerous. Bobby’s vamp said he watched them dose her with Chinuitor blood more than once.”

            Damn it. The last shred of hope that it was all some big mistake disappeared.  I tried to get up again but Dean grabbed my shoulder and with very little pressure held me in place beside him. “Damn it, Dean, let me go.”

           “Alex, you need to understand something. If you aren’t a normal healer then we have no idea what you naturally are, let alone how far they got if they were in the process of turning you. We have seen just about every monster out there but I have never come across something like you.”

 _Monster._ So it wasn’t enough that I was being turned into something against my will, we now had to factor in that I was a hybrid monster with no known origins.

           “Were your parents human?” Dean persisted. “Did they ever tell you about any of this?”

           “They didn’t spontaneously combust or grow fangs or something, if that’s what you’re asking,” I snapped. “And my ability didn’t show up until after they died, so no, I don’t think they were master mind monster breeders.”

           “Settle down, Alex, we’re just trying to help.” Dean gently squeezed my shoulder and the contact anchored me, giving me a center of balance in this fucked up mess.  
           “Sam, what were you able to dig up last night about Chinuitor?”

           “Information about them is almost impossible to find, but Bobby was able to dig up a little about their origins. The Alpha is very choosy about creating more of his species. The process is very similar to vampires, with blood transfer being key. All of this is more myth than fact because the Alpha hasn’t been seen in over 600 years and this is the first sign that he might be top side. Alex, do you have any idea if you saw him or could recognize him again?”

           “I don’t remember.”

          “Alex…” Dean muttered. “ _Try_ and remember. We can’t hunt him down if we don’t know what we’re after.”

           I jutted my jaw stubbornly. I wasn’t stupid. If I tried to sort through the memories now with all my defenses down I wasn’t sure I would be able to pull myself back out. “I said I don’t remember, Dean.”

          Silence fell as all the unknowns swirled around us. Sam was the first to break it. “So. The leader of the nest somehow finds out that there is some kind of loose, unwarded healer on the streets. He takes you and somehow has the connections to turn you into his own personal secret weapon. If you’re a Chinuitor under his control, then you effectively become the bullet proof vest for his entire nest. He could win any war with zero casualties.”

           Dean began to pace, energy flowing out of him. “So, if we’re right about this whole master plan, and that’s a big if, then why weren’t they protecting you? You would be their most valuable asset.”

           “I refused to heal the bastards.” My tone was flinty.

           “I get that.” Dean snapped impatiently. “But what purpose does it serve to weaken you, to carve into you? Faulkner controls every move his demons make, there’s no way that was all happening under the radar.”

           “Maybe … he needed to build her pain tolerance.” Sam’s quiet tone was a direct contrast to Dean’s rising anger. “Even as a full-fledged Chinuitor she would be handling and healing large scale injuries. Maybe he needed her to be stronger.”

           “Stronger?” Dean’s growl made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. “Does she look stronger to you, Sam? Does she look like her pain tolerance is at an acceptable level? Fuck that son of a bitch! He handed a young girl over to a nest of demons with carte blanche for torture for three fucking months!”

           The more they talked about it the more it made sense. I was the perfect target. No family, no friends. I lived on the streets, I didn’t even have a cell phone in my name. Had the Winchesters not stumbled upon me I would have disappeared off the face of the earth until I became a monster or Faulkner killed me, and no one would have noticed.

           Dean slammed his fist down on the dresser. “Damn it, Sam, I’m tired of having a front row seat to Faulkner fucking up peoples’ lives! We have got to kill this mother fucker.”

            I flinched back from Dean instinctively before locking my limbs. “Who is this guy? He’s head of that nest?”

            “And a whole host of others. He’s human but he’s made some sort of deal with Lucifer to become an overlord--a human that is given a temporary ruling power from hell. He has a whole pack of monsters that follow his orders. He hasn’t been heard from in over a year so we have been hunting his right hand man Stokes for the past five months. We’ve had our eye on Stokes for a bunch of other shit storms he caused and this one is just icing on the cake. We have a pretty good lead on where he is going to be for the next couple days.”

            “That’s where you were headed next.”

            “Right. He was supposed to be at the barn, but he escaped before we got there. Bobby has been following his trail since we found you.”

            “So let’s go get him.” The path was clear in front of me. We get to Stokes, who leads us to Faulkner. Cut off the head of the snake and I would be able to hunt down the rest of his nests one by one. I could use the next few days with Sam and Dean to learn a few tricks about hunting. Whatever I didn’t learn from them, experience would teach me.

             Sam stiffened. “No way.”

             I almost growled at the looming Winchester. “If he is Faulkner’s right hand man then he knew what was going on in that cellar. That means he is just as responsible as those sick fucks that cut me up. This is _my_ fight.” Like hell I would sit back and let Faulkner find a new pet to torture and turn. This would end with me.

             “You can’t be serious. Dean, she is not still coming with us.”

             Gritting my teeth, I got my feet under me and advanced, crowding Sam’s orbiting space. “This is my fight, Sam. Come along or don’t but I am going after the son of a bitch.”

             “Settle down, feisty pants,” Dean sighed in irritation. “We are going to protect you, even from yourself. Right now that means that you need to take some time and heal. We’re still taking you to Bobby’s. Then Sam and I are going after Stokes.”

             What a chauvinistic asshole. “Like hell.”

             “Dean, why are you so set on this?” Sam snapped. “We don’t have time right now to figure out her mess. Stokes—”

             “Bobby is out hunting for Stokes as we speak. That means his house is empty. Alex, his house is warded like none I have ever seen, and the safest place I can imagine for you to bunker down and figure out what is going on. When we get back with Stokes in tow, we can figure this all out together.”

             “No way in hell are you going after him without me.” I gritted my teeth, digging in my heels.

             His eyes hardened. “Faulkner is a phantom, and we've spent months trying to track him down. We finally were able to get a tracker on Stokes this week and he is our only prayer of getting to Faulkner. We have been hunting our whole lives, Alex.  Let us handle this.”

             "So, what? You think just stashing me somewhere is going to be safe? You think handing me over to another hunter with a ‘careful, she may be combustible’ warning is really the best idea? I deserve payback for what those bastards did to me!”

              “I agree. But you need to heal up before you even consider going hunting. You’ll either get yourself killed or all of us captured. You’re a liability right now, Alex, and that’s all there is to it. You’re going to Bobby’s. End of discussion.”

               I swallowed hard, barely able to contain my fury. “Fine.” He wanted to stash me somewhere out of the way? Fine by me. As soon they dropped me off I was out of there. Who knew how long my body would take to heal from this mess or if it even would. I would find the strength I needed when I needed it. I was not about to sit with my thumb up my ass waiting for them to return with the bad guy in tow.

               “Then looks like we’re headed to Bobby’s.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Hello! Thanks so much for taking the time to read my little creation. I do not own Supernatural but sure do love borrowing the beloved characters and playing in their world for a short while.*


	8. The Diner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Debating on whether this chapter needs reworked... wanted to have some lighthearted interaction between them and to break the constant tension but am not sure if I went so lighthearted that it seems out of character? Please comment with thoughts and suggestions!

            The tension was thick as we all packed up silently and got into the Impala. As soon as we were settled Dean slid behind the wheel and cranked up some 80’s rock on the speakers. Sam settled his long legs under the dash and pulled a book into his lap, but his eyes kept drifting to me in the rearview mirror. I turned to look out my own window in an effort to ignore him but didn’t miss the fact that he adjusted his side mirror so he could more easily see me no matter how I moved. Dean seemed oblivious to us both, his window rolled down and his hands tapping the steering wheel in tempo with the music. As we drove farther out, his agitated movements slowly began to ease as he adjusted the controls for the music and switched out tapes.

             I blocked them both from my thoughts and tried to focus on the sun shining and the bass guitar rumbling the speakers behind me. Miles of road disappeared beneath the tires and my thoughts drifted as the scenery began to change, my eyes falling shut now and again. I woke up just as we were pulling into a small gas station with a diner set off to the side. Cornfields surrounded us in every direction.  

            Dean shut off the engine and turned to look at me with an arm thrown over the seat. “Morning, sunshine. You hungry?”

            I nodded shortly, not sure if we were talking. I was just a liability, after all, some baggage they needed to drop off before they could go on their merry way.

            He patted my knee and I fought the urge to kick his seat. “Why don’t you and Sam head in and –”

            “--I don’t think that’s the best idea,” Sam interrupted.  
            Dean just arched an eyebrow.

           Sam rolled his shoulders uncomfortably. “We can’t risk having other people around her. She’s pissed at you. And she’s _been_ pissed at you for hours. Bobby said when her emotions are high that escalates the risks--”

            I scoffed, his insinuation lighting a fire under my ass. “I haven’t exploded yet, have I, Sam? So don’t do anything to piss me off further and I shouldn’t spontaneously combust in the next ten minutes. Know what would be a great start? Feed me. I’m hungry. Feel like playing Russian roulette? Then  _don’t_ feed me. We’ll just see what happens.”

             Dean made a face at me. “Boy, somebody got up on the wrong side of the backseat.”

             Gritting my teeth, I climbed out of the car and slammed the door behind me. I strode stiffly into the tiny diner and slid into the nearest empty booth. My muscles screamed at me, stiff from staying in one position too long as I dozed. Ignoring the pain needling at my skin, I pulled out a menu and scanned the choices.  It suddenly hit me that I was _out_ of that nightmare, that I was sitting in a restaurant with my only dilemma being what to choose for lunch. It seemed so normal, like something that people with nine to five jobs did regularly, people with lives where their biggest concern was who would get Timmy to soccer practice on time. Ordinary people that didn’t know that monsters were real, or have to worry that _they_ were the monster.

            Sam came in quietly and sat across from me, his eyes assessing. “...You still mad at me? Do I need to sit at another table?”

            “Just sit down, Sam,” I snapped, trying to hang onto that small feeling of normalcy before it completely drifted away. “Let’s just eat our lunch and then we can be back on the road.”

            “I’m just trying to protect everyone—”

            I slapped the menu to the table, staring at him fiercely. “Seriously, Sam, if you say another word to me right now I will gut you with a fork, and I won’t make it pretty.” My anger grew as Sam’s mouth quirked and a low chuckle escaped him. That trickle of normalcy disappeared as my temper flared white hot. “What the hell is so funny?” I grabbed the fork on the table warningly and he held out his hands in helpless defense, soft laughter spilling from him and making my blood boil. “Damn it, Sam-!”

            He threw his head back and laughed until he was short of breath and his eyes were wet with tears. I still had the fork in a death grip but the longer he laughed the less angry I was, and the unrelenting tightness in my chest seemed to loosen. He finally settled down and wiped the tears from his face with a low chuckle and I waved the fork at him. “You, sir, have no sense of self-preservation when it comes to angry women.”

            His eyes twinkled at me and he relaxed into the booth seat, throwing his arm over the back. “I’m sorry but the way you said that reminded me of a friend of ours, Ellen. She always told us growing up ‘Shut up and let me be mad!’ She would hoot and holler all over Bobby’s house but once she calmed down she would make us cookies. Said she just needed to get her ‘mad’ out. Do I need to let you get your mad out, Alex?” His playful tone swept the rest of my anger away but I couldn’t let him off the hook that easy.

            “I’ll never get my mad out, and laughing at me just means next time I won’t warn you first, Sam Winchester. You piss me off again and I’ll just come straight at you with the fork.” I waved it at him threateningly but couldn’t stop a fleeting smile. The band around my chest loosened some more and I realized what a long time it had been since I felt like smiling.

            There was mischief in his eyes and that boyish smile undid me. We had not had an easy time of it, Sam and I, since the moment they burst into my cellar. Maybe I needed to cut him a little slack. It wasn’t his fault that I might be dangerous. He was just trying to minimize the damage. “I’m sorry about breaking your nose.” 

             He made a face at me in surprise. “Where did that come from?”

             I lifted a shoulder, suddenly uncomfortable with lowering my guard. “This is an impossible situation and you are just doing the best you can. I know that. Neither of us want anyone else to get hurt.”  

             “Don’t let Dean hear you say that, Killer.” Sam arched an eyebrow at me playfully. “He’ll think that means you’re ready to start following orders.”

             I snorted. “Just what I need. Commander Winchester getting lofty ideas.”

             Sam threw his head back and laughed again right as Dean came through the diner doors. I couldn’t hold back another smile at Sam’s infectious laughter and Dean got an annoyed set to his mouth as he slid into the booth beside Sam. He gave his brother a shove and grabbed one of the menus off the table. “What’s so funny?”

            Sam ran a hand down his face and couldn’t suppress his grin. “Nothing really, just found out Alex has a sense of humor.”

            I dropped my eyes to my menu and studied it in earnest, ignoring the tension that had arrived with Dean. He scowled as if Sam's laughter irritated him and I shrugged his moodiness off. “Let’s eat.”

            “Yeah Comman—”

            I kicked Sam under the table and he choked back the rest of his words as the waitress came up. Both of the guys straightened as a different sort of tension arrived with her. She was a tall blonde in a tiny waitress uniform and high heels, all legs and breasts. “Good morning boys, my name is Tiffany. What can I do you for?” She flashed them a interested3 grin and leaned forward in a show of collecting their menus, her uniform barely containing her. Dean’s irritated scowl shifted into a lazy invitation and I suddenly noticed that he still had that early morning disheveled look that sent women’s minds straight to sex. “Good morning, beautiful,” he murmured, dropping his low voice to a nice rasp that tingled the back of my neck and I stiffened. This was the absolutely last thing I needed, or _wanted_ to watch.

            The waitress visibly melted and Sam quirked an eyebrow at his brother’s obvious change of mood. “I’ll have the chicken sandwich and a sweet tea.” Sam smiled softly at her, his brown eyes warm. Warmer than I thought was strictly necessary and my sudden possessiveness of the two Winchesters just flat out pissed me off. They were dumping me at Bobby’s and then I was off on my own again. I would never see them again so what did it matter what happened here in this tiny diner?

             “Like things sweet, do you?” Her greedy gaze flittered between the brothers before lingering on Dean.

             “I always like to start my day with something sweet,” Dean rumbled, eyes suggestive. “How about you bring me a nice big old slice of pie?”

             I cleared my throat loudly. “I’ll have a burger and an extra-large milkshake.”

             She completely ignored me. “I saw you drive in in that yummy car. You both look pretty tired from a long drive.” She touched Dean’s shoulder and his mouth quirked in a half smile. She finally flicked a glance over me and her mouth curled in distaste. “Ya’ll weren’t in an accident, were you? It’d be a shame to hurt such a pretty car.”

              “Oh no, it’s perfectly fine. Our … little sister, here,” he tilted his chin at me, “had an unfortunate run in with a flight of stairs. She’s not real graceful.”

              I gritted my teeth and resisted the urge to kick him under the table. Three months of torture explained by falling down the stairs? Surely no one was stupid enough to fall for that line.

              “Well that’s good! Where are ya’ll headed?” My natural respect for my fellow woman took a nosedive.

              Dean gestured vaguely. “Up north. Still have a ways to go.”

              “Well, my place is just around the corner if you need somewhere to rest up!”

              Sam leaned in. “We really appreciate the offer, it’s very sweet.” He flashed her a wide smile too, until the full force of their combined attention nearly made the waitress weave on her feet, overcome with testosterone and Winchester charm.

              “Just how you like it, sugar,” she winked.

              Oh gag me with a spoon. “But…” I prompted in barely leashed irritation.

              Dean shot me a disgruntled look, losing the sexy smolder. “But… we really do need to get back on the road. Looks like we’ll have to settle for the pie for now.”

              “And lunch.” I leaned into her tractor beam eye-lock with the guys and waved a hand. “As soon as possible.” 

              She flicked her hand in irritation at me before flashing the guys one more bright grin. “Well after such a long day driving, we can’t have you paying for your dessert now, can we? Your pie is on the house. And if you change your mind about my place, just let me know.” She winked _again_ and swept off with a shoosh of her tiny uniform, the sound of nylon rubbing grating on my nerves. What kind of waitress dresses like that in the back ass of nowhere?

              Sam settled back with a shake of his head and Dean relaxed with a smirk.

              “Does that happen a lot?” I sat there, a little dumbfounded. I shouldn’t be, I rationalized. They were both good looking, Sam in a towering _I can sweep you off your feet_ vibe and Dean in a _I know how to do things that would make your toes curl_ kind of way. But still. What kind of skank propositions someone over their lunch order? And didn’t we have some seriously more pressing matters to worry about?

            “Sometimes.” Dean’s shit-eating grin told the true story. “All I know,” Dean cracked his knuckles, “is that _my_ pie is on the house. What did you get on the house, Sammy? Oh that’s right, nothing. She liked me better.”

            I snorted, unable to keep my thoughts to myself. “It’s not like you’re going to ever see her again. What difference does it make?”

            Dean winked at me. “That means I get a free pass. No nagging, no phone calls, no regrets. The perfect trifecta.”

            “That’s messed up.” Who was I lecturing? I had accused him of being a rapist because I couldn’t get out of my head long enough separate memories from reality. My mouth opened and words started coming out before I could think. “Seriously, you should be ashamed of yourself. Sex is supposed to mean something.” What the hell was I saying? It wasn’t as if I had a virtuous leg to stand on. I was exactly one hundred and seven days past having any sort of idealism when it came to sex.

            Dean chuckled with that raspy tone that made my stomach clench with a delicious curl. “Not to those kind of women, sweetheart. That’s why I like them so well.” 

            My unwilling physical response to this side of Dean just flat out pissed me off, fueling the runaway train of words escaping me. “So, what? Now you can mark ‘find an easy lay’ off your to-do list for the day?” So what if he did? Why the hell did I care? None of this crap mattered, anyway. I just needed to shut up.

            The smirk fell of his face and he arched an eyebrow at me sarcastically. “Please, Alex, tell me how you really feel. Don’t hold back on my account.”

            “I just thought that you would have more class than that.” I slammed my mouth shut, hoping that was the last asinine thing to escape me.

            “Ah.” Dean stared at me for a long moment as if weighing his response.

            “Dean,” Sam muttered in a warning tone, keeping a close eye on his brother. I saw the flicker in Dean’s eyes before he leaned across the table with his smirk firmly back in place.

            “So this is the real you, hmm? I wondered what you would be like beneath all those layers. You’ve got laughter and smiles for Sam, the one who tried to _kill you_ , but I get you hounding my ass for my morals. Well news flash, Alex – just because we rescued you and are protecting you doesn’t mean I’m going to live like a monk until we get you to Bobby’s.”

            I sputtered. “I don’t expect–”

            “Good. I live my life the way I want and you can take your opinion and—”

            “Dean—” Sam warned again.

            Dean threw up his hands. “In fact, why the hell not? Sam, I’m calling an hour time-out from saving the world. It’s been a shit storm couple of days and I could use some fun. I’ll make up the time while we’re driving later.” With that he slid out of the booth and sauntered after the waitress to where she stood filling the coffee pot at the counter. She brightened immediately and leaned over the counter and surprised him an eager open-mouthed kiss. The other diner workers rolled their eyes and hollered at her but left her be. Apparently this was not unusual behavior. Dean recovered quickly and took over the kiss, sliding one hand to the nape of her neck and cradling her head to change the angle of the kiss. What had started as sloppy overenthusiasm quickly became a heated exchange that caused a flush to crawl up my neck.

I jerked my gaze away, snapping my mouth closed. “Seriously?”

            Sam shrugged with a roll of his eyes. 

            “Your brother can be ass.”

            Sam chuckled. “No arguments there.”

            “She better at least bring my burger and shake first or there’s going to be hell to pay,” I growled and that just sent Sam back into laughter. I fiddled with my menu for a long moment and studiously avoided looking over at the pair, trying to convince myself I didn’t give a damn what either of the Winchester brothers did. Or whom. Not a damn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Hello! Thanks so much for taking the time to read my little creation. I do not own Supernatural but sure do love borrowing the beloved characters and playing in their world for a short while.*


	9. Grady

            Sam settled back in the booth with a sigh, lacing his fingers over his hard stomach. “That was delicious. How’s the pie?”

            I licked my lips. “Best thing I’ve eaten in a long time.”

            “Dean’s going to be pissed. You’ll learn not to come between that man and his pie.”

            I shrugged. It wasn’t my problem Dean had gotten distracted. “So, where are we, anyway?”

            “Somewhere in the middle of Pennsylvania.”

            I hummed. After all the diner food (which had been delivered via a different waiter since Tiffany had abruptly ‘gone on break’) I was full, I was tired, and every inch of me hurt. There were no distractions and nothing else to focus on and I just wanted some sleep.

            His brow furrowed. “You feeling ok?”

            “I’m fine, just full.” The backseat of the Impala was starting to sound mighty luxurious.

            “You sure? You’re looking a little rough.”

            I gave an acknowledging snort. If I looked half as bad as I felt, then he was being kind. 

            Sam shifted in his seat, his concern deepening as he watched me. “You shouldn’t have healed us back in Toledo.”

            I cocked a brow at him. “Pretty sure that saved my life. From _you_.”

            He stiffened. “I know you aren’t a bad person, Alex. But the danger is real. We don’t know what is going on with you and won’t know until Bobby can check you out.”

            I sighed and settled into the booth seat, wishing it was more comfortable. “Is Bobby some kind of Chinuitor expert?”

            “He’s an expert on just about everything. He’ll be able to figure you out. You do realize how dangerous it was for you to heal us both, right? We deal with a lot as Hunters. Taking the damage from us both could’ve killed you.”

            I gave a helpless shrug and passed him the last bite of pie as a peace offering. “It’s over and done. Nothing to do about it now. Besides, adding a few bumps and bruises is hardly a big deal at this point.”

            He ignored the pie. “’A few bumps and bruises’? You went into shock last night and you’ve been shaky all day.” 

            “And Bobby had magic medicine that made it all better. I’m _fine._ ”

            “That medicine isn’t helping heal you, it’s just masking some of the symptoms. You’re far from _fine_ , Alex.” He ran a hand over the back of his neck. “Why do you think you can’t heal yourself? If you’ve got Chinuitor blood running in your veins then why hasn’t it healed you? Have you _tried_ healing yourself?” Earnestness and frustration mixed in his blue eyes.

            Just thinking about the last time I had tried made my hands sweat. “Yes, Sam. I’ve tried.”

            “What happened?”

            My vision narrowed abruptly and I was back in that cellar, dim light leaking through the dusty cracks in the flooring above me. Laughter echoed around the small room as the demons cheered on the most recent attempt to break me. Agony obliterated thought and fired through me in waves, centering on the crisscross of wounds layering my back. _Heal, damn it, heal!_

            “Alex?”

            I blinked and came back to the diner with a sense of vertigo. “What?”

            “You ok?”

            “Yes,” I answered automatically, trying to get my bearings. I glanced down and noticed that I had a white knuckled grip on the chipped Formica table.

            He studied me, running a hand through his long brown hair to brush it out of his eyes. “I think we should go back to the Impala.”

            “Fine.”

            I followed him outside stoically. Dean had parked the car back behind the diner and wedged it between the building and a dilapidated shed that nearly hid it from view. Sam opened the back door for me and I slid in before slumping down to sprawl out on my back, my feet hanging out the open door as every muscle protested. Sam sat in the passenger seat and pulled out a book. I stared at the ceiling and dug my fingers into the leather seat, focusing on keeping my breath steady so I didn’t draw Sam’s attention as I tried to dig my way out of the memories but felt like I was drowning in them.

            The beginning had been the worst. Three weeks I had held my silence, twenty-one days that they hadn’t been able to wring a sound from me no matter what they put me through. It had become a personal challenge to many of them. They had always come to me several at a time and always with a voracious thirst for pain and agony. Any time I was on the edge of succumbing to painless oblivion they would call a halt and make sure I stayed awake, aware, and that pain became my only existence. I lost the ability to gauge hours or minutes or days and time became measured in breaths. Even through that endless nightmare I never broke, never cried out. Then one of them had discovered a particular favorite toy, a metal tipped bullwhip. Day after day he had played with it until one day he told me that he would keep going until I broke my silence. Thirty lashes I had held on, counting in my head through each excruciating strike. With each one I had felt my skin welt, burst, and bleed more profusely. Agony like I had never experienced went on endlessly and my self-control began disintegrating.

             Strike thirty-one had released my screams as though I had been saving them all for a single moment. I had screamed until I couldn’t any more, until I hadn’t been able to speak for days.

            An unexpected sound yanked me back to the present. I stretched just enough to peer out the side window and spotted a back hoe pulling into the gas station. A grizzled denim clad worker disembarked and headed into the diner. I dropped back to the seat with a deep breath, digging my nails into my palms to help me stay centered. I was no longer at their mercy, no longer theirs to torment. Sam and Dean had killed most of them and I was going after the rest. Another deep breath grounded me further and I tucked my hands back into the sleeves of my shirt, my eyes falling to the soft over-washed fabric.

            Dean had given me a black t-shirt, green button-up, and a pair of baggy jeans. The cuffs were rolled up on everything to fit me and I worried a loose button wondering absently why someone so handy with a needle and thread wouldn’t fix it. My meandering observations came to an abrupt halt when I noticed that I _smelled_ like Dean. Not his cologne, though there were traces of it in the fabric but the smell that had comforted me in bed this morning before I had come fully awake. All I could think was that it smelled like _man –_ whiskey, motor oil, sweat, and gunpowder. I folded up the collar of the button-up and sucked in a lungful of peace. Calm. The man might piss me off royally but his smell…hell. It did more for me than a decent night’s rest. He smelled like comfort. A soft sound from the front seat made be abruptly aware that I was not alone. My gaze jerked guiltily to find Sam’s pensive gaze on me and I flushed.

            We stared at each other for a long uncomfortable moment, Sam carefully choosing his words before releasing a deep breath. “Alex, please don’t fall for my brother.”

            I straightened up in the seat, embarrassment firing the color in my face. “That’s a bit out of left field, Sam.”

            He gestured to where the collar was still popped around my face and I tucked in my chin in protectively. “You’re doing the shirt thing. The deep smell and the dreamy eyes. I know what that means, and trust me -- he's the last thing you need right now.”

            I snorted. “Dreamy eyes? Seriously? His shirt smells good. That’s it.”

            Sam rubbed a hand through his hair. “Alex—”

            “Sam, don’t make this a big deal.”

            “But—”

            “He uses the same cologne as a friend of mine, okay? It brings back good memories.” The smell of Dean’s clothes had to do with the smell of _Dean,_ not the cologne that was barely an afterthought, but if the coincidence got Sam off my back…

             Sam’s eyes lit up and he straightened as if I had taken a weight off his shoulders. “Yeah?”

             “Yes. Now leave me to my sniffing and go back to your book.” I settled back into the seat, playing with the cuffs of the sleeves and making a big show of trying to ignore him.

            “Come on, you’ve got to give me more than that.”

            I groaned. “No, Sam.”

            His voice turned coaxing. “This is the first you've talked about _anyone_ in your life. You’ve got me curious _._ ” He braced an elbow across the seat back and leaned toward me. “What’s his name?”

            “No.”

            “We’re stuck in here together for at least another half hour. We might as well talk.” His eyes twinkled a bit and he dropped his book to the seat. “How long have you known him? Were you guys together?”

            “I am not having this conversation with you.”

            “Don’t forget that I read people for a living. I’ll get the whole story even if you don’t say a word.” He couldn’t seem to hold back the challenging lift to his eyebrow or the teasing tilt to his mouth.

            I groaned, sorting through distant memories, trying to decipher rapidly whether there was any harm in telling him a few tiny pieces. “Fine.”

            “Fine?” He echoed, expression hopeful.

            “Yes, fine, but there’s not much to tell. His name is Grady.”

            Sam scooted closer. “How long were you together?”

            “What? No, it wasn’t like that--”

            “Wait, do we need to let him know you’re okay?” His brows lowered, suddenly concerned. “Does he still think you’re missing? Do you need to call him?” His phone appeared in my hand before I could blink.

            “No!” I shoved it back at him. “See? This is why I didn’t want to talk to you about this! You’re making this a big deal.”

            “But, Alex, if he still thinks you’re still missing—” He put it back in my hand and forcibly wrapped my fingers around it.

            I took the phone and tossed it none too gently to the seat beside him. “He doesn’t! He didn’t even know I was gone. He’s not part of my life anymore, okay? None of this affects him.”

            “But if you guys were close he should know about—”

            I locked eyes with Sam, hoping he read the seriousness in my eyes. “He doesn’t need to know about any of this.”

            “But, Alex—”

            “I said no, Sam. I am not going back to my old life and even if I did he isn’t a part of it anymore. There is no reason for you to hunt him down just to let him know …” I gestured to the bruises on my face. “I don’t want any of this touching his life. Okay? Now just drop it.”

            “You can’t just leave your entire life behind, Alex. Surely there’s _someone_ who's worried about where you are. You haven’t made a single phone call since we rescued you.”

            I led a solitary life on purpose, and unfortunately that’s what made me a damn near perfect target for Faulkner in the first place. Grady had been the one exemption from the rule and his departure from my life had just given me more reasons to keep people at a distance. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.” I got out of the car and slammed the door.

            He scrambled out behind me. “Where are you going?”

            “I just want some air, Sam. Leave me alone.”

            He grabbed my arm and spun me around. “Alex, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

            I jerked my arm out of his grasp. “Look, you don’t understand. You have Dean. And Bobby. You have people in your life that get you and are there for you no matter what. I don’t have that, Sam, and now I never will.” I ran a hand raggedly through my tangled hair. “Fuck’s sake, I sound dramatic. Please, just leave me alone. I just need some air, a few minutes to get my thoughts together. I promise not to go far – I just want to walk a while.”

            “I don’t think—” His fists clenched at his sides.

           “Ten minutes. That’s all I’m asking.” 

            He sighed heavily. “Alex—”

            “Sam, for the love of Pete -- I was stuck in a cellar for three months and haven’t had two seconds to myself since you got me out of there. Ten minutes is not that much to ask for.” I ran a hand through my hair raggedly.

         His mouth tightened. “Five. And you take the cell phone. It’s got a tracker in it, just in case.” He held it out to me, eyes intent. “Don’t go out of shouting distance, and come right back after you clear your head. Okay?”

           I nodded and tucked the phone in my back pocket. Sam crossed his arms over his broad chest and then dropped them to his sides, fingers twitching. “Five minutes. Or I'm coming to find you."

           I waved him off and started back into the cornfield, wrapping my arms around my waist. Sam disappeared from sight as cornstalks closed in around me. The crunch of grass and husks beneath my feet was the only sound and the air was stuffy in the narrow row. I sucked in a long, dusty breath and let it out slowly, trying to sort my thoughts and get them back into a somewhat manageable chaos. My past needed to stay in my past. There was nothing gained by dragging it into the present and I definitely didn’t want Grady to see this post-demon version of myself. He deserved the happy life he had left to pursue. He deserved blissful ignorance of the monsters that stalked in the shadows and like hell I would be the one to tell him now I was one of those monsters. I wanted him to remember me the way I used to be. I had still been a badass but I had been _whole_ and innocent _._ I felt like I was walking around with half of me still stuck in that cellar, stuck in the nightmare that never ended. I wondered absently if I would ever get those parts of myself back.

           The Winchesters seemed to be fairly whole, if you could ignore the shadows in their eyes. The aura of hardship that had warned me of their fighting background before they ever told me they were Hunters was beginning to have a new weight, now that I knew what to watch for. Life experience had formed Dean into a warrior, someone whose gaze was always on what came next and his focus on how to tackle it head on. His rock-steady approach to everything just made me want to curl up in his presence and pass the weight of the world to him for a while. That’s what made his careless hook up at the diner so infuriating. I _knew_ he deserved more than that, and he did too. He and Sam seemed to have weathered their fair share of battles and they deserved a little more attention and care than they could find at a Pennsylvania diner in an hour’s time.              

            Sam… The more time I spent with him the more I suspected he was softer than Dean, still a badass through and through but his edges weren’t nearly as rough; almost as if he chose to still seek the good in people and Dean had given up long ago. Not that I had been the recipient of that benefit of the doubt, but Sam’s goodness almost spoke louder because of how harshly he had treated me. He was focused on saving everyone else and I couldn’t blame him. Something about the two brothers got beneath my skin, and I didn’t like that I was beginning to worry for them. Worry about what would happen to them after they dropped me off, worry about all the things that could go wrong out on the road, and definitely worried about how they were going to handle themselves going up against Stokes and eventually Faulkner. Maybe if I got to Faulkner first--

            The snap of a breaking cornstalk froze me mid-step. There, off to my left, it happened again, then one off to my right. Faster, louder, the sounds started coming toward me, honing in on my position. I turned on my heel and lurched back the way I had come. Damn, damn, _damn._  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Hello! Thanks so much for taking the time to read my little creation. I do not own Supernatural but sure do love borrowing the beloved characters and playing in their world for a short while.*


	10. Run

            Legs pounding the ground, my breath started coming in short bursts and I used my arms to block the rough leaves from hitting me in the face. A dark figure ran parallel to me in the row to my left, face indistinguishable in the rushing green until he launched himself between the stalks and grabbed a hold of my elbow, eyes flashing. I jerked out of his grasp and stumbled into the row on my right, nearly colliding with another figure before my adrenaline kicked into high gear. I started to sprint and only managed a few steps before one of them slammed into my back. I kicked out behind me and caught him in the knee, sending him down to the ground long enough for me to get a roundhouse kick in at the head of the second figure as he came in close enough to attack. It landed soundly and I hissed out a grinding breath as pain flashed through my ribs. The first figure lunged back up and I slammed a fist into the side of his temple, barely dodging his hefty uppercut to my stomach. The other grabbed me from behind and I clawed at his forearms, trying to loosen his grasp. I scrambled to hook the back of his knee with my ankle and managed to break his stance enough that he stumbled to the ground, off balance because of my additional weight. I wrestled my way free with my heart pounding in my ears and cursing the fact I was completely unarmed. Fat lot of good the cell phone did me, damn it. They both stayed on the ground for a precious moment, long enough for me to bolt again. I gave up trying to protect my face and just ran like hell.

           “Sam!” I grabbed a hold of the pendant around my neck and held on, hoping that both of the goons were just run-of-the-mill bad guys and praying to whoever was listening that I wouldn’t feel that sickening demon smoke entering my mouth at any second. “Damn it, Sam! Where are you?!” I burst through the end of the row of corn to find both of the brothers leaning against the Impala’s bumper, relaxed and shooting the breeze. “They’re _coming_! Throw me a gun!”

            They both came to attention and started charging toward me. Dean reached me first and swung me around behind him before watching Sam leap into the cornfield. A moment later he was thrown back out as if he had hit a brick wall. Dean’s hand was steady on my arm, a tight grasp that kept me positioned firmly at his back.

            “Damn it, Dean, give me a gun!” I slapped a hand to the sweaty shirt at his back and found the handgun I knew would be there. I had it out and cocked before he could turn.

            He growled at me over his shoulder. “Like hell—”

            The two figures plowed through the edge of the cornfield and Sam tackled the first one to appear. Dean launched himself into the fray and took down the other figure, solid punches landing anywhere he could reach. I held the gun steady in both hands, sighting down the barrel and waiting for a clean shot.  As soon as I saw it, I squeezed the trigger. The gun kicked back in my hands and I steadied it again as Sam’s opponent stilled, a clean hole through the center of his forehead. Dean flinched and ducked at the sound of the shot and his attacker landed a snapping punch to his face. I hid a wince at the contact and sent a clean shot through the bad guy’s right eyeball in retribution. He dropped like a stone.

            Dean shoved the body off of him and unfolded to his feet, eyes stormy. “That shot whistled by my ear. Think you could cut it a little closer next time?”

            My grip tightened on the gun and I was half tempted to point it at him and blow his sarcastic head off. “You’re welcome, you ungrateful bastard. Oh, and Sam?” I dug the phone out of my back pocket and threw it at his feet. “Thanks for that. Next time you think I might need to defend myself? Try giving me a gun.”

            Dean snapped a look to his brother. “You sent her off on her own with a _cell phone_?”

            Sam threw up his hands. “She said she needed some air!”  
            “What the hell is wrong with the air in the Impala? Son of a bitch, Sammy – you had literally _one_ job!” Dean spun around to face me. “And _you—_ ”

            I shoved on the safety. “Don’t get all high and mighty with me. I just saved your ass—”

            He stepped closer, jaw thrust. “If you ever pull a gun off me again—”

            I refused to back away from him. “I think we can all agree that I should keep this one. If I would’ve had one of my own, then I wouldn’t have had to run all hell bent for leather and I could’ve shot the bastards in the cornfield and been done with it.” The look in his eyes as he steadily advanced made a warning curl up my spine.

            “Give me my gun, Alex.” Dean growled, his determination making my stomach drop deliciously.

            “I’ll keep this one, thanks.” I shoved it in the back of my waistband and tightened my fists, choosing to believe that the heat spreading through my limbs was anger instead of a strong tide of awareness as he stalked closer, his eyes filling with a predatory gleam.

            “Give it. _Now._ ” Dean rasped, close enough now that I could feel the heat radiating off him. He stepped so close that our noses almost touched as he very slowly placed one hand at my hip and wrapped the other around to grab hold of the gun stock. I held still, suddenly wary of provoking him at such a close distance but when he moved to withdraw the gun from my waist-band I shifted my arm just enough that I could grasp his wrist and keep the gun right where it was.

            “Dean,” I murmured, staring wide-eyed into his green gaze so close to my own, “I want you to take a close look at the two shots I just made. Carefully consider the fact that I am already pissed at you. You have other guns, this one is now _mine._ Deal with it.”

            Sam sucked in a surprised breath.

            Dean’s eyes fairly sparkled with the challenge. “You think making two lucky shots at short range earned you the right to carry that gun?”

            “Lucky?!” I exploded.

            “Sweetheart, you better be thanking your damn stars that I don’t turn you over my knee and paddle your ass right here and now. _You’re_ pissed off at _me_? You just took two risky shots that could’ve killed either one of us. You have an unpredictable power coursing through your veins right now that makes you shaky at the best of times and nearly epileptic at the worst. Honestly, I am flat out terrified of the fact that you’re still currently holding a loaded weapon. You want to defend yourself? Ask Bobby to teach you to fist fight once you heal up and he gets you all straightened out. Until then, tough shit, but you’ve got two Winchesters in your back pocket to protect you. For the safety of everyone involved, we do not need you carrying loaded weapons.”

            I chewed on the inside of my lip, so furious I could hardly see straight.

            “Pass it over, buttercup,” he whispered, leaning in against my ear and sending tingles straight down my spine.  His grip shifted to my ribs and I tensed, heart still pumping with adrenaline. “Son of a bitch,” he muttered, suddenly pulling back from me. “What’s all this?” He held his hand up, blood dripping off his fingers.

            I glanced down in surprise and instantly wanted to swear profusely. Ignoring them both, I pulled away from Dean and started back toward the Impala, tucking my hands around my waist and putting compression on my torn stitches without a word.

            “Alex,” Dean drew my name out in a warning tone as he kept pace with me.

            “I’m tired of arguing with you. Let’s just get back on the road.”

            “If you busted those stitches so help me …” He threatened, jaw tightening.

            I focused my gaze on the Impala, admiring how the sunlight reflected off the chrome finish. “I’m fine, Dean.”

            He swore profusely before threading his fingers through my belt loops and jerking me to a halt. I made a desperate grab for the gun but he easily disarmed me as the gun slid straight through my blood slick grasp. He efficiently tucked it in his lower-back holster. “Hold still for just a damn minute.” He grabbed my hands and inspected them before his gaze traveled to the seepage on the left side of my shirt. It had already soaked through the under shirt and was beginning to come through the button up. His forehead furrowed and concern tightened his mouth. “You can’t manage to stay put together for two minutes, can you? Sammy, grab the kit out of the trunk. She blew threw her stitches.”

            Sam strode to the car, throwing me a concerned look on the way.

            “What was I supposed to do?” I gritted out. “Surrender? Wait for you to rescue me again? Sorry, not my style.”

            “Quit being tough. That’s got to hurt like a bitch.”

            I avoiding his gaze, watching Sam as he opened the trunk to reveal a full arsenal and a few small duffels. I mentally noted where the larger weapons were for the next time I ran into trouble.

            “You do realize that if they had been demons that those bullets wouldn’t have done a damn thing, right?” His tone was hard.

            “Well excuse me for not waiting to see if they smoke their way into the only un-tattooed vessel around.”

            He grunted.

            “You can be awfully big dick sometimes, you know that?” I snapped, pulling against his grasp.

            A grin suddenly flashed across his face, deep dimples appearing under his cheekbones and his eyes twinkled. “So I’ve been told.”

            I snorted.

            Sam slammed the trunk closed, a small pillowcase of odd shaped items in his hand. “Are you okay, Alex? Besides the ribs, I mean?”

            His concern touched me, a direct contrast to his ass of a brother. “I’m fine, Sam.”

            Dean grunted. “You always say that.”

            “It’s always true.”

            “You,” he raised his eyebrows to drive home his next statement, “need a keeper. Your guardian angel must hate you.”

            A laugh burst out of me, the thought of having a guardian angel catching me off guard. “You said you know an angel, right? Castiel? You can ask him just how many feathers my ‘guardian’ has lost over the past four months due to high anxiety.”

            A shadow passed over his face. “I’ll do that next time I see him.”

            Sam shifted on his feet. “Where has he been, anyway? I’ve prayed a half dozen times already today and nothing. Do you know what’s up?”

            Dean rummaged in the pillowcase for a long moment before pulling out a pair of pointy scissors and fresh gauze, his jaw firming. “All I know is that it better be pretty important. For the amount of prayers Cas is ignoring, he better be busy saving the whole freakin’ world.” He tilted his chin at me as he dumped alcohol on his hands. “Let’s see how badly you’ve wrecked my handiwork.”

            I grimaced and let out a harsh sigh. I shrugged out of the button up and gingerly rolled up the t-shirt to find my left side completely shredded.

            He swore and flicked a hard gaze at me. “Alex—”

            I held up a hand. “Don’t lecture me. I’ve been through a hell of a lot worse than busted stitches. Are you fixing them or am I?”

            Sam wordlessly passed Dean a towel, his soft hazel gaze full of the words he was holding back. Dean began muttering obscenities on the other side of me, mopping up the blood dripping down my ribs and efficiently snipping through the small handful of stitches that had remained intact. A frustrated burst of air escaped him. “I need to lay you down somewhere so I can fix this mess. Sam, open up the back seat so I can help her to the Impala.”

            “I don’t need hel—”

            Dean swept me up before I could register his arms around me. I struggled for a moment but he just held me tighter, one arm around my back and one beneath my knees, snugged against his chest. “Settle down. Let me pretend for one damn minute that I can make everything ok, all right? Just settle down for two damn seconds,” his growl rasped in my ear and I froze, unsure what to make of his request. He took advantage of my stillness and his long legged stride ate up the distance to the car.

            He settled me in the back seat of the Impala and managed to position me on my side before I could blink. “Stay just like that, Alex. Don’t move and I’ll do my best to put you back together. Let’s shoot for keeping these stitches in for at least twelve hours, yeah?”

            I stiffened as he started sewing, the uncomfortable position pressing my face against the back of the car seat and nothing else to distract me from the pinch and tug of his aggravated movements. I was glad I shot the bastards that made me blow my stitches.  This sucked ass, way worse than the first time. I counted twenty-five stitches before he tied off the thread. Icy pain flashed through my side as Dean poured disinfectant over the fresh stitches and I locked my jaw against the backwash of agony that chased it.

            “There. All finished.” He patted my ribs dry and quickly covered them in gauze and taped me up, his tone clipped. “Stay there and sleep if you can. We need to get back on the road.” He helped me shift farther onto the seat and get my legs inside the vehicle. He hesitated at my feet, green eyes swirling with something and I held his gaze for a long moment, unsure how to read his expression.

            The door opened at my head and Sam poked his head in and silently passed me a bottle of water and some Tylenol.

            “Thank you, Sam,” I murmured roughly, stretching awkwardly to take it from him. Dean made a noise behind me and briskly slammed the car door shut before his heavy tread made its way to the driver’s side.

            Sam’s anxious gaze searched me. “You okay? No more surprises?” I shook my head, taking a sip of water and downing several pills. Sam idly ran his hand over the door frame. “I’m sorry… about earlier. I shouldn’t have pushed you about Grady. You never should’ve been out there.”

            I sighed. “It wasn’t your fault, Sam. There was no way you could’ve known they were waiting in that cornfield.”

            “Maybe.” He ran a hand through his long hair, brushing it out of his eyes. “But I’m still sorry.”

            The strain around his eyes made me want to ease his anxiety. Tentatively I reached out and touched his hand, drawing his eyes to mine. He froze, uncertainty holding him in place. I laced our fingers together comfortingly before losing my nerve and withdrawing. “Thank you. Apology accepted. But know I don’t blame you.”

            “Sammy, get in the damn car.” Dean barked, turning to lean over the back of the seat. His green eyes flashed. “The two of you can whisper secrets all you please but you,” he waved a finger at me, indignation strong in his flashing eyes, “had better keep still so those stitches have a chance to set before you go busting through them again. Next time I’ll make Sammy stitch you up and it will look like a third grader in Home Ec. Class took a plastic needle and yarn to you. Now get in and pipe down, both of you. We’ve got a long way to go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Hello! Thanks so much for taking the time to read my little creation. I do not own Supernatural but sure do love borrowing the beloved characters and playing in their world for a short while.*


	11. Medicine

            The car was still silent after we had been driving for an hour and I knew that Dean was well and truly pissed about something. Even Sam kept casting him sidelong glances. The Tylenol was already wearing off and I shifted uncomfortably, feeling irritable. He wanted to stay grumpy? Fine, two could play that game.

            “You okay back there?” Sam murmured, leaning toward me.

            “Fine.”

            “Use more words, Alex.” Dean snapped. “I’m tired of hearing ‘fine’.”

            I gritted my teeth and stared at the back of his head, noticing for the first time that he had a small cowlick. Somehow it was deeply satisfying that the bad-ass monster hunter had an inescapable flaw.

            Dean’s grip tightened on the steering wheel. “Are you putting any kind of stress on my stitches?”

            “Of course not.” I stilled my restless movements.

            “Are you bleeding through the gauze?” Dean’s tone sharpened.

            “No.”

            “Are you hurting?”

            “Not much,” I evaded. What the hell did he want me to say? Every inch of me from my hairline to my toenails felt like I had been through a shredder. Muscles I didn’t even know I had were starting to scream at me. Car rides were hell on injuries.

            Dean just snorted doubtfully and I decided to ignore him. I shifted around a bit and propped up my head so I could see Sam more clearly. “Tell me about being a Hunter.”

            Sam stiffened. “What do you want to know?”

            “Your dad taught you?”

            A muscle jumped in his jaw. “He trained us, yes.”

            “’Trained’? You make him sound like a Commander.” I raised my eyebrows at him and he smirked.

            “He was. Commander Winchester through and through. He and I didn’t …” Sam rubbed a hand through his hair. “We didn’t see eye to eye a lot.”

            “They fought like it was their sole purpose on this earth to piss each other off,” Dean grumbled.

            A muscle jumped in Sam’s jaw. “He didn’t want me to figure out that there were more options than blindly following in his footsteps.”

           “What ‘more options’ did you want to pursue?” I tilted my head inquisitively.

           “I _did_ pursue them. I went to Stanford. Studied law.”

            “What! How the heck did you end up back here?” 

            Sam shoved Dean in the shoulder. “Dean just couldn’t quite manage without me.”

            Dean scoffed and shoved him back. “As if.  I’m surprised you made it through your Stanford years on your own. If I’m not out there keeping the monsters off your trail then who do you think would? Sure wouldn’t be Bobby. He’d let vamps bleed you dry just to teach you a lesson and then grumble you back into the land of the living, cussing the whole way.”

            The obvious affection in his tone made my heart clench as I watched them. These Winchester brothers had something special. They bickered like a married couple but stood stronger alongside each other. Their insults got more ridiculous, escalating until the tension in the car broke. Within just a few minutes, the two of them relaxed into a sprawl on the front seat and Dean turned on the radio to an 80’s rock station.

            The scenery didn’t change much as the miles unfolded. I fought sleep, not wanting to give my subconscious up to the shadows. Exhaustion set in and I zoned out, blindly watching the acres and acres of farms blur by. Hours passed and restlessness began to prickle the back of my neck. By the middle of the afternoon I was ready to start crawling the walls, creating a game with myself of trying to guess how many more exits we would pass before we had to stop for gas. Anything to distract me from the waves of cramping heat that had started gradually building in my muscles hours ago.

            The music was abruptly turned off and the only sound in the car was the whistling of the wind.

            “Dean?” Sam went on alert, checking the mirrors.

            “I knew it. I should’ve fucking knew it.” Dean muttered, hands clenching and releasing the steering wheel.

            Sam stretched in his seat to glance out the back window and caught my curious gaze.  “Hey. Everything all right back there?”

            “Just peachy,” I grumbled, spreading out as much as I could in the seat to ease the cramping. “What is Dean bitching about?”

            Sam’s eyes narrowed as he got a full look at me. “You feeling ok?”

            “Fantastic.”

            “Try and drink some water.” He handed me a bottle and Dean’s gaze flickered to mine in the rear-view mirror at the change in his brother’s tone.

            I took the bottle and managed a small sip but it was lukewarm and had a sour tang. I set it aside distastefully. “What’s going on?”

            “Try and drink some more, Alex, you really aren’t looking good,” Dean’s voice coaxed distractedly.

            An intense wave of sudden heat crackled through my veins and I clenched my teeth against an inward moan. “Are we stopping anytime soon? Don’t we need gas or something?” My tone came out much sharper than I meant for it to.

            Dean snorted. “Not if I can help it. You’ve got some friends trying to tag along for our adventure.”

            I craned my neck around again and just managed to catch a glance of a black SUV as we sped around a corner before it dropped back out of sight.

            Swearing beneath his breath, Sam started rummaging around in the bag at his feet. “Dean, where is it?”

            “Where’s what, Sammy?”

            “The duffle with the hex bags and medicine in it. I just realized we didn’t put any hex bags on her.”

            “No wonder they found her in the cornfield – they can track her plain as day!” Dean scratched the side of his jaw distractedly, eyes bouncing between the mirrors. “I probably threw it in the back with the other stuff. I figured you had taken care of that back at the diner.”

            Sam snorted. “I meant to, but the plan changed back at the diner, remember?”

            “What do hex bags do?” I interrupted, not eager to think about what had caused our plans to change at the diner. I was not interested in hearing a play by play of Dean’s experience in Tiffany’s apartment.

            “It will block the demons from being able to track you.”

            “That would’ve come in real handy before these goons got on our tail, wouldn’t it?” Dean pointed out sarcastically.

            “If we hadn’t taken such a long break for lunch then they wouldn’t have caught up so quickly, would they?” I snapped, a scorching flush filling my cheeks, catching me off guard and making my hands sweat.

             Sam backed off and Dean shot me a warning look. Quiet settled in the car with the tension mounting as we started to take exits and side roads before looping back around to the highway, none of which deterred our followers. Dean’s foot got heavier on the pedal and the wind rushing in through the open windows began to roar as we picked up speed.

            “Alex, can you pass me the – Alex?” Sam dropped a hand over the back of the seat and touched my knee. “Are you ok?”

            I reeled back, fighting to find my equilibrium and figure out why the roaring in my ears was making me dizzy. I tried to focus on his face but my neck sagged drunkenly, dropping my gaze to his large hand on my leg and watching as his grip tightened.

            “Alex, hey, can you look at me?” Sam forcefully requested, and I struggled to follow his directions. He snapped something to Dean before crawling over the seat and tumbling into the back with me. He folded his big frame into the small space and grabbed both of my hands. His touch was chilly and I tried to jerk away.

             “’S cold.” Everything was starting to flash by the windows too quickly and I was having a hard time focusing.

             “You’re burning up. She’s on fire, Dean, you’ve got to lose them so we can pull over.” Sam’s voice suddenly sounded overly loud in the small space.

             “Don’t you think I’ve been trying to do that?” Dean growled.

             “Damn it! Try harder!”

             I felt disoriented and wished that Dean would slow down. “Are they getting closer?” I jerked around and stared out the back window but all I could see was blurry landscape rushing past and I closed my eyes against a fierce stomach cramp chased by overwhelming nausea. Oh no. That was all I needed, to throw up in Dean’s beloved car.

            “Don’t worry about them, Alex. Just talk to me.” Sam’s big hands suddenly held my face and he pulled me closer to him. “I need you to stay calm and focus. The power is already spiking so we need to keep you calm. Tell me something about yourself.”

            “I feel sick.”

            Dean’s quiet curse reached me.

            Sam’s mouth kicked up a bit at the sound. “Try and tell me a story, or something about you. What’s your favorite color?”

            I tried to remember but everything before my capture seemed like a distant dream and the details were fuzzy. I tried to come up with answer that would keep him happy, and Dean’s eyes flashed at me in the rear-view mirror. “Green.”

            “Good job. Tell me something else…what’s your favorite food?”

            I gave him a genuine smile and realized I felt a little loopy, as if the wind were zapping my brain cells. “Chocolate. Anything with chocolate. Cake, brownies, ice cream, strawberries… especially cool whip and chocolate sauce.”

             Dean spoke up from the front seat. “I’ll get you some, as much as you can eat. But you have to focus on talking to Sam to get it. Understand? Just keep talking to Sam. Oh, and following the one rule of car rides with us – no throwing up in Baby.”

            His order seemed to have the opposite effect and the mere suggestion of talking suddenly seemed like entirely too much work. I was tired and hurting, and uncomfortably folded up in the backseat of this car. I just wanted to rest and block out the world. I forced my eyes open and had a crystal clear moment of awareness. It was happening again. The shakes, the heat… I couldn’t give into this weak assed bullshit. I had a mission. I was going after Faulkner and I was going to hunt down every monster and vampire that had known that I was being held in that cellar. I had to stay focused. I pulled back out of Sam’s hands and straightened through sheer force of will. “Something’s wrong, Dean. I can feel it happening again. Something’s not right.”

            “I know, sweetheart. You’re doing fine, we’re almost there. There’s a coven of witches that live just up the road and if we can just get to their property, their mojo will cover us. They’ll never know we’re there, but those demons will just pass us right on by. I just need you to hang on because we need to do some fancy driving real quick and it’s probably going to make you sick. Please just don’t throw up in the car.”

            That pulled a strained chuckle from Sam and a quick jerk of the car threw me against him and he wrapped a solid arm around my waist. I looked out the window to see that we had cut across the median and were crossing the oncoming traffic lanes to reach the exit ramp. The Impala bumped and jolted across the uneven road and honking horns and shouting voices reached us as we flew across five lanes of traffic and up the opposite ramp. A quick look out the back window showed a collision between the black SUV who was attempting to follow our mad dash, and several cars in the oncoming lanes. We sped up the off ramp and swerved right at the light, and Dean floored it and flew around the corner. I closed my eyes against the blur of movement and tucked my head into Sam’s chest. His other arm wrapped around me and I felt shockingly safe in his arms.

           “Easy, Killer,” he soothed. “We’ll get there soon. Just hang in there.”

            Gravity and momentum threw us around the back seat for the next interminable while until Dean screeched to a stop in front of a rundown motel. Quick, anxious movements pulled me out of my haze. I looked up into Sam’s hazel eyes as he lifted me out of the car, literally just wrapped an arm under my legs and one behind my back and picked me up like it was nothing. I stared up at him in surprise and realized how big he really was. I was at least four feet off the ground. I startled and grabbed onto his shirt with both hands.

            “Shh, easy. We’ll get you fixed right as rain in just a minute.”  The sing song quality of his voice threw me, and I wondered how much of this I was hallucinating. Sam was the one that wanted me dead. He was the one that had come after me with a knife. He carried me around the back of the car just as Dean threw open the trunk. Sam sat on the open bumper with me still in his arms and Dean threw around everything in the trunk until he suddenly withdrew a familiar small vial of green liquid.

            “Damn.” Dean’s muttered curse reached me as Sam pulled me in closer to his body so he could free one arm and tilt my head back.

            Dean pulled out the stopper and poured the thick syrup down my throat and I swallowed with a wince, pulling away from him and inadvertently tucking myself farther into Sam’s arms. “That stuff is gross.”

            Dean ran a soothing hand through my hair and Sam studied my expression. “Any better?”

            I just shook my head. Ratcheting cramping stretched across my body and I felt like I was being split open. Sam’s arms tightened when I spasmed involuntarily against the pain.

            “What’s wrong? What’s happening?”

            “I don’t know,” I gritted out, digging my fingers further into his shirt. I clenched my eyes closed and tried to picture something calming – the ocean, the sky, sunlight beaming through a window. They thought my emotions might be spiking the energy? I could control them. I could calm this down.

            “Alex, baby, look at me.” Dean’s commanding tone pulled and plucked at me. “Fine, just listen to my voice. You’ve got to breathe. With me, listen—” He sucked in a deep breath and was letting it out before I could start. I tried to push air out so I could match his rhythm and a deep cramp started at the back of my thighs and arced up to my shoulder blades. I convulsed against Sam and lost my hold on him, felt myself sliding out of his grip.

            “Shit.” Dean gripped me and pulled me into his lap. He settled on the Impala’s bumper and pressed my back to his front, pulling me close between his sprawled legs. “Easy. You got this. Don’t let this take you over. You hear me? You breathe with me.” He pressed a wide spread hand on my belly, fingers tense against my rib cage, careful to avoid anything covered by gauze. “In.” He sucked in a long deep breath and I felt his chest expand behind me. “Out.” He released the air in a tight explosion, his grip tightening on my waist as I stuttered again, trying to tamp down the panic and focus. “Suck in the air and let it go gently. You got this. Damn it, we’re not letting those bastards win. You can fight this change.”

            My hands flew to his thighs on either side of my hips as another ratcheting cramp gutted me and I nearly doubled over.

            His broad hands held me tight. “In, Alex! Deep breaths!” His other hand came up and rested on my neck, tilting my head back to straighten out my airways and dropping my head back to rest on his shoulder. “Focus, baby. Come on. Breathe in.” He pressed his cheek against mine and I frantically sucked air in through my nose. “Perfect, baby girl. Now out.” I forced the air out and then desperately sucked in another long breath, finally matching rhythm to Dean’s coaching breaths. Long moments stretched out and air whistled in my lungs as breath after breath cycled through my lungs, the cramping pain coming and going and gradually becoming less frequent. Time stretched out until I realized it had been a long while since the last cramp and all I was focused on now was the calming cadence of Dean breathing.  

            Exhaustion pulled at me and I slumped more heavily against him. He gently ran a hand over my belly. “Hey.” He pressed a gentle kiss to my cheekbone. “You all right now?”

            “I think so,” I murmured, fighting the urge to turn into his neck and pretend that there were no bad guys and that I wasn’t becoming a monster.

            “You’re still running a fever.”

            “Does that mean I have to take more medicine?” I dragged my tired facial muscles into a moue of distaste.

            “Nope. That was the last of what we had.” A soft sigh escaped him before he injected false pep to his next words. “Now we just need to get you to Bobby’s, I’m sure there’s more at the house. Just in case it gets bad again before he can figure this out. I’m sure he will have you all fixed up in no time.”

            “What is in that stuff, anyway?” I shifted in his arms and he just adjusted his hold, muscles flexing all around me.

            “You’ll have to ask Bobby. Always fills that medicine roll with just about anything you can think of but doesn’t always remember to label them for us.” Dean shook his head in amusement, his scruff brushing my forehead.

            I struggled weakly to get to my feet and Sam jumped in, giving me a hand up and bracing me against his towering height, wrapping an arm around my waist.

            Dean straightened, his eyes assessing. “On second thought, I’m going to call Bobby, see where he is at. Maybe he carries some with him.”  
            “Sounds good.” Sam started making shuffling progress with me around to the side door of the Impala. “We’re still eight hours from the house. I’d feel better if we had some more with us for the rest of the trip.” The brothers shared a look before Dean stepped away to make the call.

            Sam helped me stay on my feet until I could slide back into the back seat of the Impala. I couldn’t hold back a groan of discomfort. All of my muscles felt like wet noodles.

            “Alex?”

            I looked up into Sam’s soft hazel eyes.

            “We will find a way through this, okay? You’re going to be all right.”

            I gave him a small smile and limply wrapped my fingers in his, the connection feeling safer this time. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without you guys.” I lifted our linked hands and brushed my forehead against his knuckles, finding the contact comforting. “Thank you, Sam. If I haven’t truly said it yet, thank you for saving me. No matter what happens next, thank you for rescuing me from that cellar.”

            “Alex—” Dean’s war whoop outside cut off whatever Sam started to say. I pulled back from Sam and dropped his hand as Dean threw open the driver side door and poked his head in, eyes sparkling mischievously. “I have some great news.”

            Sam shifted his stance, his tone stilted. “About time. We need some good news.”

            “ _Great_ news, Sammy. Bobby’s close by, only about two hours out and he’s got Stokes! The vamp led him right to him. And he does have more of that medicine with him! Bobby said he would give us a shot at Stokes if we can get there soon.” Dean cracked his knuckles and threw himself into the driver seat, pulling the door shut with a bang. The prospect of some interrogation was clearly firing him up. “Let’s get back on the road!”

            Sam circled the car and settled in the passenger seat and Dean turned the key in the engine with a smile. “It’s just like Christmas!”

            Sam and I shared a look in the rear view mirror before I turned away with a small smile. Hunters sure were a strange breed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading my story, guys! I always love to hear feedback and this is my first time writing something within someone else's world - but I love the Supernatural world and family so much that I couldn't help wanting to be a part of it. Please let me know if there are parts that are out of character or need tweaking, I would love to improve my writing and character development as I go! Thanks for reading!
> 
> *I do not own Supernatural but sure do love borrowing the beloved characters and playing in their world for a short while.*


	12. Stokes

            “Alex, we’re here.” Sam’s low tone and the warm hand on my knee calmed me. We were parked in the woods, and it was nearing dusk. There was nothing around us but woodland and a small ramshackle cabin off to our left. A single bare light bulb illuminated the crooked door and rotting steps leading to the ground. Sam gave my knee a squeeze and we all got out of the Impala. I stepped closer to Sam as low noises started escaping the building, drifting eerily on the wind.

            Dean chuckled. “I’d guess Bobby’s about elbows deep in that fucker by now.”

            I winced at the visual and Sam put a hand on the small of my back and ushered me forward toward the small building. A quick distinct knock from Dean and I braced myself for what we were about to walk into.

            The door burst outward and a stocky man wearing a ratty ball cap and flannel came through with a shotgun, pulling to a halt as he spotted us. “Boys! About time you got here. What did you do, let Sam drive?” He slapped Dean on the shoulder and ushered us all into the cabin.

            “Ha! I know better than that. Last time Sam drove I had to replace the brakes. Damn old woman.”

            The inside of the one room cabin was sparse and dirty, and I barely gave it a cursory glance before all my attention was drawn to the figure tied to the table in the center of the room, his limbs secured to the table legs at awkward angles. A huge circular design was chalked out around him on the floor. He turned and spit blood off to the side, serious bruising beginning to show along the side of his face.

            “Boys, please meet our monster of the week, Jeremiah Stokes.” Bobby led the way to the table with a smirk.

            Dean’s eyes lit with a terrifying glee. “Have you gotten very far with him?”

            “He’s not feeling very talkative.” Bobby cocked his head and the man on the table raised his eyebrows in challenge at the trio before him.

            “Before Dean digs into his Christmas present, Bobby, can we get that medicine for Alex?” Sam spoke up.

            Bobby turned his full focus on me for the first time. “Ah, yes. Alex. Their project X.”

            The man suddenly struggled against his bindings and lifted up enough that he could see me more clearly. Our eyes met. It took only a moment for the challenge to vanish from his eyes and he began to laugh. The eerie sound filled the room with tension, and my skin began to crawl as the grating sound began to pull memories forward, darkness creeping into my mind. All three men shifted, the easy amity of a moment ago completely disappearing.

            Stokes cackled until tears mixed with the blood on his face. “Ah, darling, so nice to see you again. Have you missed me?”

            I stayed silent, trying to fight the memories back.

            “You know him, Alex?” Dean demanded.

            Bobby placed a restraining hand on his shoulder. “Easy, boy. This is the most he’s spoken since I got him in here. Let’s see what he's got to say.”

            Stokes flashed a chilling grin at me. “What a pity – sounds like the Winchesters have let you in on our little experiment. How did you react when you found out that we were turning you into a Chinuitor without you ever knowing? I do wish I had been there to see your face.”  
            A sick feeling grew in my stomach.

            “We should’ve guessed that you would’ve latched onto the Winchesters and followed them around like a sad puppy. How convenient that they brought you right back to me."

            My hands started to shake as his gaze flickered to the Winchesters, basking in the attention of his audience. “We had strict instructions for this little girl. She was much stronger than we anticipated, and her will lasted longer than we had originally planned for. Clearly our methods were not working, so we let you ‘rescue’ her. We felt letting her taste her freedom again would ease her, lower her guard. And just look at her – clean, clothed, and whole again, pretending our time together never existed.” His dark eyes flickered at me in the dim light, a cruel smile curving his lips. “Come on, darling, you didn’t think it would be that easy to get away, did you?”

            “You don’t have to talk to him, Alex, there are other ways we can get answers.” Sam stepped closer to my side, nearly vibrating with tension.

            “Aw, how sweet. You think you’ve found a protector? Why would they protect you, a _Chinuitor_? They hunt monsters or haven’t they mentioned that? Come now, Alexis. We both know you aren’t good for much, and Krieger certainly wouldn’t approve of you having new lovers.”

            I flinched and sucked in a sharp breath, more memories pounding at the wall I was trying to keep them locked behind. Rage began to simmer in my veins as I desperately tried to hang onto control.

            “Krieger? Was he the one that carved into you, Alex?” Dean demanded. “That’s the next sick fuck on my list, Bobby. We need to make sure he suffers.”

            Stokes tsked at Dean. “No need to get excited, Dean. The only thing you need to worry about is keeping little brother Sammy safe. Chinuitors that haven’t been completely turned tend to go out in a blaze of uncontrollable glory, don’t they?”

            Heat. I could feel it racing through my veins and my anger fueled it.

            “I was shocked, to be honest,” Stokes smiled at me widely enough to make his split lip bleed, and it dribbled grossly down his chin. “I could hardly believe how docile you were by the end of Krieger’s last session with you. For months I had my best demons doing their damnedest to break you, Alexis Lane, but in the end I couldn’t take any credit for it,” he pouted. “But I have to admit, Krieger did manage to work wonders with you. By the end of that memorable day he had finally discovered a cock is the only way to keep that bitchy mouth of yours busy.”

            With a shriek I grabbed the knife on Sam’s hip and flew at Stokes in a rage, the memory of that nightmare suddenly breaking free, stunningly crystal clear in my mind. Krieger had stripped me down and spread me out, my hands and feet secured so tightly that I had lost all feeling in them. He had spent hours, _hours,_ carving into me, every stroke deliberate until my blood had run and he had covered his hands in it in glee. He had paused only to put my mouth to _use_ , telling me over and over how beautiful my blood was to him, how arousing the scent of it was in his nostrils. He was a big man and nearly torn my throat open with forcing me to swallow his revolting excitement again and again.

            And Stokes had stood there, watching the whole damn time.

            Strong arms jerked me to a halt, wrestling the knife out of my hand before I could reach my target. I flailed, unable to see anything but the bright manic light in Stokes’ eyes. Sick bastard. I would kill him if it took my last breath.

            “Alex, calm the fuck down!”

            The memories rushed over me in a flood. He had been there often, in my nightmares. He was the voice in the darkness that ordered the others around, made suggestions for new tortures when they couldn’t break me. I had only seen bits and pieces of his features in the darkness but it all made sense now. Faulkner’s right hand man was the one who had orchestrated my hell. I struggled harder against Dean’s grasp. “I’ll kill you! You controlled everything! I’ll fucking kill you!”

            I flailed against Dean’s hold and managed to reach Stokes’ leg with just the tip of my fingers. The heat strumming through my veins suddenly sparked and exploded into a thousand shards of refracted light inside my head. My knees buckled beneath the pain and Stokes cried out, a tinny high pitched wail that sent a shiver down my spine.

            “What the hell just happened?!” Dean shifted his grasp around me as I continued to fight through the debilitating pain to try and reach the devil on the table.

            “Holy shit! The blood vessels in his eyes burst!” Sam exclaimed, turning toward us in disbelief. “Alex, what--?” Words seemed to fail him.

            “I’m going to kill him, Dean – you hear me? That bastard is mine!” Excruciating agony pounded relentlessly in my head but it was not going to keep me from my objective.

            “Calm the fuck down!” Dean threw me down on a nearby couch and I bounded right back up. He tackled me and held me there with one arm braced across my collarbone. I thrashed against it but couldn’t manage to budge him. “Hey—hey! Look at me!”

            I stilled, sucking in a painful breath and staring up at him as my heart thundered in my chest and the headache pounded in time, narrowing my vision. His green eyes were lit with adrenaline. “You need to calm down! Bobby’s got this handled. We need information out of the bastard before we can off him. Get yourself under control or I am going to have to agree with Sam that you’re putting everyone at risk.”

            “I didn’t do a damn thing!” I snarled.

            “So, what – his blood vessels just exploded all on their own? Damn it, Lex, calm the fuck down before you hurt someone!” His intense green eyes flickered as he saw something change in mine, the realization that something felt different, _I_ felt different.

            I released him with a growl. “I am perfectly calm.” I would be an ice bitch if I had to, but no one was keeping me from my kill. I twisted in Dean’s grasp enough to pin a glare at Bobby. “He’s mine to kill. You understand me? You do whatever the hell you want so we can figure out how to find Faulkner but I’m the one that slits his throat.” I stared them all down, ignoring the pitiful wails and incoherent sobs coming from the figure on the table.

            Dean finally gave a small nod. “Okay. He’s yours. I promise.”

            The tension eased out of me and my pulse gradually slowed.

            “Geez, you’re a bloodthirsty wench, aren’t you?” Dean muttered, releasing me and helping me back to my feet, but didn’t both masking the light of grudging approval in his eyes.

            “Dean, take her in the other room and give her some more of that medicine and get her calmed down.” Bobby ordered, his tone sharp. “The last thing we need is her power fluctuating any further and blowing us all to hell. We’ll head out to the house in a bit. We need to find somewhere to hunker down for a few days and take our time with him and get her stabilized before something happens. Sam, I need you to go get me your medicine roll. There are some ingredients in there that I need – we’re going to have to spell this bugger to move him.”  

            “Let’s go, princess.” Dean tried to herd me toward a side room but my legs were shaking and I felt as if the floor were unsteady. “Damn it, if you messed up those stitches again I’m–” He bit off the rest of his threat and swept an arm beneath my legs and up in his arms, jaw tight.

            “I’m fine--” I protested, shoving against his chest weakly before closing my eyes against the pain and leaning against his shoulder. Fuck, but I was suddenly tired.

            “Just breathe, okay? We just got you through the last set of pain or whatever that was. Don’t want you blowing up in my arms now, do we?” Dean murmured, kicking open a door I hadn’t noticed and gently laying me down on a narrow cot.

            “I’m not going to—” I muttered.

            Dean raised his eyebrow. “You made the man’s eyes explode. Literally. Explode. I think we’re past the wondering if you have powers stage.”

            I couldn’t hold back a shiver that wracked me.

            “Damn it, you need Cas. Castiel, where the hell are you?” Dean growled, peering around the small room as if expecting something to happen. “Damn inconvenient angel. Sam and I have been trying to reach him to come heal you ever since we found you. He’s not answering. Normally he pops up every time I turn around.”

             Pins and needles prodded the back of my eyelids as I pressed my fingertips against them. I felt as if there was noise inside my head. Buzzing, chaotic, indecipherable noise that I couldn’t block or filter.

             “Fuck’s sake. Those stitches better have held. You were fighting like a bat out of hell so who knows what you did to them,” Dean grumbled as he efficiently rolled the hem of my shirt up to the top of my ribcage and started steadily pulling off the tape around my saturated gauze. His brow pinched and focused clinically on my body. I studied him, trying to identify the feeling his focus evoked. It just felt odd to have someone taking care of me, someone looking after my well-being. “They held. Thank fuck. Seriously, though, how have you been up and walking around? It took a hundred and eighty-six stitches to put you back together the first time, twenty-five of which I had to redo. Usually if I have to put twenty stitches in, Sam is crying like a little baby.”

             I huffed a short laugh, trying not to flinch away from his brisk touch. “Sam doesn't cry.”

             “Oh, you’d be surprised. I’ve made that boy cry more times than any of the monsters we hunt. And make sure you keep him away from clowns, he’s terrified. You could drown in the tears.”

             My chuckle choked into a hiss as Dean poked and prodded at me. The door opened to my left and Dean halted my instinctive lurch away with a firm hand. “Easy, it’s just Bobby.”

            “Son of a bitch.” Bobby breathed. “No wonder you look like hell, girl.”

            I grunted. I dropped my gaze back to Dean, fighting the urge to try to hide from his scrutiny. I didn’t need Bobby’s pity.

            “Did you at least take a few of them down a peg?” Bobby cleared his throat, clearly trying to mask his reaction.

            My eyes flew to his, startled.

            “She escaped four times,” Dean boasted, squeezing my knee. “They had to ward her restraints to keep her down there.”

            “Well. That’s something.” Bobby murmured, coming closer and I tensed. Dean rubbed a small circle on the inside of my knee, distracting me.

            “We’ve got Stokes ready to move. Her medicine is over there in my bag.” He jerked his bearded chin toward the corner where a worn knapsack lay. “You said she already went through a whole bottle of it?”

            Dean nodded, his steady touch moving just north of my knee, keeping my attention split. “Seems to help with the fevers.”

            “Son of a bitch.” Bobby muttered before retrieving the bottle and placing it on the dresser beside me. The canister was small, held less than 6 ounces of the green liquid. “This is all I have with me and there isn’t much more at the house.”  
            “What do you mean, Bobby?” Dean demanded, his touch stilling. “You said you had plenty!”

            “I thought that _was_ plenty! It usually only takes a few drops to cure what ails you! I never thought you’d go through it so damn fast!”

            “Shit. _Shit._ What are we going to do then? Can’t you just get some more?”

            Bobby snatched his ball cap off his head and slapped it against his thigh in frustration. “That stuff is made from fucking Chinuitor bones – no, Dean, I can’t just get some more!”

            Well, fuck me. The stuff I had been tossing back to alleviate the symptoms of being a half turned monster was probably accelerating the change. Fan-fucking-tastic. My stomach soured and lurched.

            Silence fell.

           “So we get her to your place and keep a low profile until we can figure this out.”

           Bobby gaze tightened. “She made his eyes explode, Dean. She’s not going to be able to keep a low profile no matter where we take her. This is just the beginning of what she’s capable of.”

            I pulled away from Dean’s touch, my thoughts chaotic. “Some blood vessels blowing in his eyes is the least of what’s coming to that bastard, but that doesn’t mean that I can’t stay low.”

            “How did it happen, exactly? And don’t you dare tell me that you don’t know.” Bobby stomped away, worrying his hat in his hands. “I was watching your eyes, Alex, and something happened right before. What was it?”

            I sat up in the bed, hunching over uncomfortably. “I got hot, like I do with the fevers. Then when I touched him it was like the heat exploded inside my head. It wasn’t like I said words or _decided_ to hurt him, it just happened.”

            “Fuck.” Dean rubbed the back of his neck. “We’ve got to keep those fevers down, Bobby. I thought it was just her body fighting to heal but _damn._ It’s definitely the power fluctuating.”

            “Or we have to complete the transition. Then she’ll be able to control the energy and it won’t be near as dangerous. Trust me, Alex, it will be a lot safer—”

            Panic welled. “Safer?! Like hell!” I clambered to my feet on the opposite side of the bed. “I’m not doing it!”

            Bobby growled, slamming his hat back on his head. “Alex, you’re way past the point of choosing. Unfortunately, those bastards took that choice from you months ago. The vampire that I had yesterday? He said that they started dosing you with Chinuitor blood from day one. The change should’ve taken a couple weeks at most, but for some reason your body has resisted the Chinuitor blood. Everyone in that nest was under orders to break you, they thought if they could break down your will then eventually your body would accept the change.”

            “But I didn’t even know they were doing it! How could I fight something I didn’t know was happening?!”

            “I don’t know, but something changed when Sam and Dean got you out of that cellar. Your body has started to accept the Chinuitor blood which is why you’re getting the fevers and starting to be able to do some crazy shit. But we’ve got to get the power under control and _soon_ before something bad happens.”

            Unfortunately, I couldn’t argue. The reality was that I had been sucking down Chinuitor juice for the past two days like a vamp binging on blood, and the heat seemed to be getting more intense every time it hit. “How much do you actually know about Chinuitors? Sam said the lore is impossible to find.”

            “Not impossible. I have my resources. But none of it is reliable fact. The Alpha only creates a few prodigy at a time. If they’re all killed it may be hundreds of years before he surfaces again. It’s been 600 years since he was last known to be active, and not a whisper of who his last protégés were. Created Chinuitors stay off the radar because their power is essentially only reactive, with no ability to defend themselves. The lore states that they can’t kill, can’t manipulate cellular structure in a negative way but I think we can safely say that has been disproved. On the power scale they are off the charts but by far generally the weakest players on the board. It’s usually just a matter of time before they are captured by bigger and badder monsters that use them as a personal bodyguard and life insurance policy. Because of that, information about them is very closely guarded.” Bobby’s mouth tightened. “I do know that as soon as one drop of Chinuitor blood enters your veins there’s no stopping it. The green elixir may be helping calm the symptoms of the change but there’s no way to undo what they’ve done.”

            I sucked in a deep breath, overwhelmed.

            “The only choice we have now is to completely turn you. It’s the only way to keep you safe.”

            “You mean it’s the only way to keep the boys safe,” I snapped. “You know as well as I do that as soon as I become a Chinuitor that I will never be safe again. Even if I take out Faulkner and all his nests, _everything_ will be hunting for me the rest of my life.” The walls started to feel like they were too close and the dusty air began to choke me.

             Bobby held up a placating hand. “Easy, Alex, you need to calm down…”  
            “Alex.” Dean’s normally steady voice was thready, uncertain, and I swung my gaze to his, shaken by the hesitant way he held himself. “We can figure this out. Sam and I… we’ve been through hell together. We’ve managed to pull through situations much worse than this. I got bitten by a vampire once, did I tell you about that yet?” His forced laugh rattled me and I just stared at him, clenching my fists to hide the tremors I couldn’t control. “It’s okay though, we were able to reverse it. Well, that was a bad example. We’ll figure this out, Alex. We may not be able to turn you back into a human but we will figure it out. Okay? But I do think that Bobby’s right—”

            Oh hell no. I couldn’t fight them both. Out, I needed to find a way out--

            A figure abruptly appeared beside Dean with a gust of warm air. “Dean? Is everything all right? Are you injured?”

            Dean’s tension seemed to ease immediately as he shoved the dark haired figure in a cream trench coat back a step. “Fuck, Cas! It’s about damn time! Sam and I have been calling you for two _days._ Where the hell have you been?!”

            Cas’s eyes met mine and a sudden rush of power filled the room, simmering just below the surface. “Dean. Bobby. It’s not safe for you both to be in this room. That girl is a mutant and dangerously out of control of her powers. We must leave immediately.” That warm breeze blew through the room again and all three of them disappeared, Cas with one hand on Bobby’s shoulder and the other on Dean’s elbow.

            Then silence. Absolute, deafening silence.

            I stumbled out of the room, shoving open the door to the living room expecting to see Sam standing over Stokes at the table. The room was empty, the ropes laying lax on the table and blood still dripping down one of the table legs. The cabin was completely empty.

            Strangely, the stifled feeling only got worse. The realization that I was completely alone stole the air from my lungs. I should’ve known it would come to this. I _did_ know. I had been telling myself from the beginning that I couldn’t count on them, that they wouldn’t be around long enough to matter. And really, how could I blame them? Cas was right. I was dangerous to everyone around me. He was right to take them away. At least now they would be safe.

            My thoughts rattled around aimlessly in my head as I watched the blood drip further down the table leg and finally drop to the puddle below. I needed to go somewhere, I needed to find somewhere safe. I knew what was coming now. There was no reversing this, no wild attempt to regain my humanity. The combustion was coming and I needed to find somewhere safe to welcome it. This would all be over soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I do not own Supernatural but sure do love borrowing the beloved characters and playing in their world for a short while.*


	13. One Month

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! I went back this summer and really worked on the previous chapters with changes and additional scenes. If you've been with me since the beginning, I recommend rereading the previous chapters before heading into this next set! As always, I love to hear your feedback and thoughts! Your comments make my day!
> 
> *I do not own Supernatural but sure do love borrowing the beloved characters and playing in their world for a short while.*

            A month had passed since the Winchesters had gotten me out of that cellar. Twenty-eight days since Cas had moved them all to safety, and twenty-one since the green elixir had run out. I was now well acquainted with weathering the raging fevers and cramping pains, trying to control the increasingly frequent flare-ups of energy on my own. The first two days After Cas I had spent running, just trying to get as far from Faulkner’s nest and territory as possible, terrified to fall asleep or stop moving. The longer I ran the more I realized that if I was a walking bomb, I wanted to use that to take out as many of Faulkner’s bastards as possible, even Faulkner himself if I could manage it without falling back into his control. So I had found an abandoned cabin somewhere deep in the woods of Kentucky to hunker down and regroup, come up with a plan. The first vampire had caught up to me on the fourth day and after an intense battle and victory, I had realized that everything I had learned about surviving on the streets was about to save my life. I rarely left to go on supply runs but on my few ventures out, I managed to find more lore books for research and build my own arsenal of weapons to take out any and all kinds of monsters.

            Faulkner’s demons and vampires didn’t take long to find me, and I had now settled into a ready expectancy in my tiny cabin, just waiting for the next wave to come. I had managed to take out sixteen demons and three vampires so far, and none of my kills were from using my questionable Chinuitor powers. The lore books laid out in great detail what weapons could take out who, though there had definitely been some close calls when the lore left major details out.

            I cursed Cas on a daily basis for not leaving Stokes with me. I hadn’t been able to find any information about Faulkner’s whereabouts or where his nests were at, and if Cas had just given me some time with Stokes, I could’ve extracted everything I needed before I slit his throat. I had been nursing a well-fed hatred of the angel since his rapid appearance and disappearance in my life, a hatred that was only outweighed by my gratefulness to him for keeping the Winchesters safe from me.

            And today I certainly did not appreciate his abrupt appearance in my living room.

            “What the fuck do _you_ want?” I demanded roughly, slamming the front door behind me and dropping my few supplies to the floor. I had a hand on the knife at my hip but was wary of being the first to attack. He was an angel, after all. According to my reading, they apparently were scary powerful beings.

            “I believe the customary greeting is ‘hello’.”

            “Get out of my house, Castiel, or I’ll kill you.” My growl came out raspy from disuse.

            “Hello, Alex. I believe we have not been formally introduced. I’m –” He extended a hand to me and took a step forward.

            I dropped to a crouch, pulling my knife and eyeballing the sharp scythe leaning against the wall behind him. Not the prettiest way to behead vampires but effective, and I could only hope it would do the same to angels. “I know who you are, damn it. Get the fuck out.”

            His brow crinkled and he gave me a long puzzled look. “I have done nothing to you. Why do you assume I will attack?”

            “I’m a monster, you’re an angel. Doesn’t take a genius.” I stayed crouched, balancing on the balls of my feet and relishing the burn in my thighs. Most of the damage from the cellar had healed in my time alone, though I had learned to seriously hate rainy days. Made my bones ache something fierce and brought my darkest nightmares to the surface.

            “You’re half a monster,” he corrected calmly, “which is why I am here. The Winchesters –”

            “I don’t want to hear about the fucking Winchesters. Just leave me alone.”

            His eyes narrowed. “The Winchesters have been concerned for your well-being. They have requested many times that I keep an eye on you and I have kindly kept both on you frequently. You cannot handle what is coming and I am here to assist.”

            I straightened to my full height, anger overriding my caution with the angel. “I can handle anything that comes through that door, and I do not need your help.”

            “I have watched you learn to dispatch demons and vampires and you have done much better than expected. Your vessel was not in very good condition after your time in captivity, and despite the Winchesters belief in you I did not feel you warranted healing. I had much larger matters to attend to at the time.”

            Awesome. Now even the angels thought I deserved to spend my days in agony, healing at a snail’s pace.

            “However, your claim that you can single-handedly manage what is coming is false. The illness that strikes is coming much more often and your next bout of sickness is due at any moment. The demon horde camped outside your cabin is aware of this as well and planning to attack when you are weakened.”

            Fuck. Mother fucking fucker. He _had_ been watching me. The fevers had recently escalated and now had some rather unpleasant side effects. And what was this about a demon horde? “There isn’t a horde – they only come a few at a time. I can handle –”

            “There are one hundred and fifty-eight demons surrounding this building as of a few moments ago.” Castiel tilted his head knowingly.

            _Shit._ “But I just went on a supply run! I didn’t see any of them!”

            “There were only one hundred when you left for your supplies, the rest were summoned when you returned. They know that you will take out a fair amount of them if you are well. They have chosen to wait until your next bout of helplessness and recapture you. I believe their leader is tired of waiting for you to fully accept your transition.”

            “I am not helpless,” I ground out. “I’ve taken out demons in the midst of a fever before.”

            Cas shifted uncomfortably. “I may have assisted a time or two. Just when you were ill.”

            So he had time to help me fight, but no time to help me heal so I could do it on my own. What bullshit. I glared at him. “I don’t need you, Castiel. Besides, I thought it was too dangerous to be around me.”

            He held my gaze. “That is what I told the Winchesters. It was my belief at the time. But Sam and Dean believe they have found a way to contain the … explosion … should an incident occur.”

            My eyebrows flew up. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

            “There’s no way to know for certain but they believe they will be protected—”

            “And what—I’m just supposed to trust their hunch?!”

            “If they _are_ correct and there is no immediate danger to them, then I believe Sioux Falls will be the best place for you. Unfortunately, this process has gone on too long and I believe you are a far bigger risk on your own than under the watchful eye of Bobby Singer. You will be in good hands when we arrive.” He reached out toward me again and I tensed.

            “Like hell! I am not going anywhere with you!”

            Cas’s sigh was longsuffering. “I have explained the situation we are in – I am here to assist.”

            “I don’t give a flying fuck what they think they can contain! If they’re wrong --”

            “I can feel the power shifting in this room – you are about to succumb to another wave of illness. You are of great value to Dean and Sam and they have requested that I do everything possible to secure your well-being. Come with me to Bobby Singer’s and you will at least have a chance at survival.”

            “Cas, I’m not—” Oh, shit. The room spun around me and I tilted precariously, vertigo stealing my sense of security. “Just… leave me here. I can … handle … the demons.” A wave of sensation broadsided me, knocking me to my knees for a long moment. I forced myself to get my legs beneath me and stand before the angel, but every sense was sharpened to the point of pain and I struggled to get my shields up. My ears rang with a cacophony of indecipherable noises that seemed strengthened by the angel’s presence in the room, as if he drew them in. As I tried to focus on our conversation his sense of purpose abruptly became overwhelming and I felt buried beneath the weight of it.

            “I am sorry, Alexis, but not even you can be so foolish as to take on one hundred and fifty-eight demons on your own. I know that this will be unpleasant for you but we need to go. _Now._ ” Suddenly his arm was around my waist and he was pressed tight to my back, his trench coat enveloping us both as air whistled around us.

            The physical contact with the angel caused the incoming sensations to shift to a higher screeching whine in my ears as we transported. I hunched and twisted, just wanting the clawing sound to cease before I lost my mind. My feet hit a cement floor hard, and I struggled to orient myself.

            “I have done my best to shield you from the worst of it,” Cas murmured in my ear. “I hope I have not caused you too severe a discomfort.” He released me and I stumbled, unable to right myself in the midst of new sensations and noises. I grabbed my temples, trying to grasp something, anything, that would ground me in this new place.

            “Alex?! Where the hell have you been? Are you okay? Cas, what’s wrong with her?!” Dean. His familiar whiskey roughened voice almost brought tears to my eyes and I clung to the sound, not caring if it was a memory or figment of my imagination. The rest of the cacophony dropped in pitch, still present but not as overwhelming.

            “She'll survive, Dean—”

            “Damn it, Cas, I’ve asked you a thousand times to bring her back! If she's hurt, so help me…!”

            “Alex?” Bobby’s voice brought on a wave of uncertainty that nearly buckled my knees. Damn. This was going to be a bad spell, I could tell. I pried my eyes open experimentally and tried to focus through the haze of pain. Cas, Bobby, and Dean all stared at me cautiously and I realized we were in a basement. There was a large metal door behind Bobby and a stairwell off to my left. Storage boxes, books, and odd tools covered every surface.

            “Fuck.” I groaned and dropped my head back into my hands. “Damn you, Cas, take me back!” There was so much sadness in this room I was choking on it. I couldn’t even differentiate who it was coming from. I fought against the weight of their sorrow. “There's no way you found can contain that kind of blast - it's too dangerous for me to be here--”

            Bobby grimaced. “Trust me, after the past month with those two crawling up my ass about finding you, there’s no way they'll let you out of their sight again. And we _did_ find a way to limit the risks—”

            The flood of certainty that he felt only told me that he believed what he was saying, not that it was true. “I’m not doing it, Bobby, I’m not putting you all in danger—”

            “You’re the only one in danger here. It’s better for you to be here and complete the transition where we can help –”

            “Nothing has changed! I refuse to – oh God…” Agony shattered my senses, skin bursting open along my back. I arched into the pain as five distinct gouges started flowing streams of blood down my back.

            “What the hell?!” Dean rushed over, hands hovering as he watched me writhe.

            Cas flicked a heavy look at Bobby. “It's Sam-- he has returned and he is injured.”

            “Will she…?”

            “She will be all right. Sam needs you right now.”

            “Damn werewolf… told that boy not to go out when he was so distracted.” Bobby muttered and cursed as he rapidly scaled the stairs.

            “Don’t just stand there, Cas, heal her!” Dean grabbed a fistful of Castiel’s trench coat.

            Cas gave him a flat stare. “Give it a few moments.”

            _I deserve to suffer… even angels think I deserve to suffer…_

            I focused on the pain, relieved as all the outside noises and emotions dulled in the wake of the heat that filled me. It poured through my veins and I was suddenly enveloped in Sam. He was worried, hurting, and anxious and I didn’t care for it at all. The emotions sank into my bones until they were _my_ emotions and feelings. “Sam, I need to get to Sam--” I struggled to my feet and pushed Dean out of the way, scrambling toward the stairwell.

            “What the fuck is going on?!” Dean bellowed, following closely on my heels.

            We burst through the door at the top to find Bobby with an arm wrapped around a limping Sam, lowering him to the couch. I hurried to his side before collapsing on the floor beside him, blood beginning to drip down my sides from the scourging marks on my back. Sam had mirroring marks on his own, and his face was white with pain.

            “Damn it, Sam, what were you thinking?” I murmured, relief at seeing his face quickly being overwhelmed with the ache to ease his suffering. I gently brushed the hair out of his face.

            “Alex?” His eyes were hazy, and I could literally feel the pain radiating from him. “Are you really here?” His gaze shifted to Dean. “Did Cas finally bring her back?”

            “Will someone tell me what the fuck is going on! And Cas, for the love of all that is holy, fucking do something!”

             Dean’s heavy wash of anger and helplessness pounded at my back. Closing my eyes, I struggled to filter it out. “Sam, I’m going to help, okay? I need you not to fight me. Please. It will hurt more if you fight me.” I ran a gentle hand down his face and reached down to wrap my fingers through his, bringing our clasped hands up to rest against my forehead and braced myself. Gritting my teeth, I rested my hand on Sam’s chest and blocked everything out but the feel of his heartbeat beneath my touch. I breathed shallowly, matching my rhythm to his as our heartbeats slowly started to synchronize. I let the ever present heat beneath my skin flare to life. It flowed into him, searching out the injuries all over his body, and imprinting the pulse of his blood and the texture of his skin and bones into my own. I was relieved to find only minor injuries other than the claw marks along his spine, and focused every ounce of energy I contained to narrow my focus on the ruptured skin. I concentrated on forcing his muscles and tendons back together, to connect and undo the damage that had been done. Time was irrelevant but I could tell it was passing swiftly. A long, shuddering sigh escaped me as I finished. I felt hollow, wrung out and all of the emotions in the room rushed into me, sending pain needling into my temples.

            Sam wrapped an arm around me as I slumped against him. “Thanks,” he whispered against my forehead.

            “Anytime,” I whimpered.

            “Cas, if I don’t start getting some answers soon, I’m going to shoot someone!” Dean bellowed, his emotions so strong they were almost a tangible thing.

            Cas calmly took a step away from Dean. “That would be unwise and solve nothing. Alex doesn’t have the reserves to heal anyone else.”

            Dean swore as stumbled over and jerked Sam’s bloody shirt up his back. The look he flashed me was a conflicting mixture of relief and concern. He gripped Sam’s shoulder tightly. “You all right, man?”

            “I’m good. Alex, are you?”

            In a flash Dean was behind me, shoving my shirt up my back to reveal a bloody mess but no wounds. “How did you take it from him downstairs? You weren’t anywhere near him!” He demanded. The emotions rolling off him in waves strengthened. He was angry, and anxious, and somehow so relieved that that emotion nearly eclipsed all the others.

            I shook my head groggily as Sam hauled me up onto the couch beside him, getting us both into a sitting position. “Things changed while I was gone. If I’m near people who are hurt I sometimes … share … their wounds now until I can heal them. Sort of like a homing beacon for who I am supposed to help, I guess.”

            “Are you serious? That's...” Dean trailed off and ran his hands through his hair, the heavy weight of frustration beginning to outweigh the relief.

            Silence fell and I closed my eyes. Sam was okay. Dean was okay. And I was the one in knots over people I barely knew. What sort of hold did these Winchester men have over me? They were so damn endearing it made me sick.

            Sam gently squeezed me, his arm still wrapped around my shoulders. “Have you been okay?”

            “I’m fine, Sam.”

            “We’ve been worried about you. Cas wasn’t telling us much, just that Faulkner hadn’t caught you yet, and it was safer for you to be on your own. Damn it, Alex, Dean and I tried to find you. It was near impossible. Who taught you how to cover your tracks?”

            I huffed a small laugh. “Did you forget how I grew up? I taught myself.”

            “Well, you’ll make a damn good hunter one day.” He smiled as he tucked me in closer.

           I let myself curl a bit into his side, focusing on his calming emotions and letting them push away the chaos of Dean’s. “One day? I’m not a half bad hunter right now.” I couldn’t help but lift my chin a little in pride. “Took down sixteen demons and three vampires since Cas vamoosed you all away.”

            “ _What_?! Are you fucking kidding me?!” Sam thundered, his grip tightening on me painfully. “ _Cas_!” Sam dropped me and lurched across the room toward the angel. “You said she was fine – you said you were keeping an eye on her! She killed sixteen demons—on her own!”

            “ _Sixteen_? In one month?! Damn girl, you sure figured things out quick,” Bobby muttered in surprise.

            Dean didn’t even bother with words, he just flanked Sam and they boxed Castiel into the corner, their expressions murderous. Cas’s face remained stoic. “The demons were playing with her, she was in no real danger. They wanted to test her abilities and gauge whether she was able to heal herself of injuries sustained in battle yet. They also falsely believed that Morton’s suppositions about Chinuitors not being able to cause harm to any living creature were true. They were baffled at her ability to wield a weapon.” His gaze jumped between the boys as my pride in my kills withered. “Did you hear me? She was in no real danger. They were just testing--”

            “Don’t think for a minute that that gets you off the hook for this, Cas,” Sam growled, looming closer as the angel’s stoic expression cracked, bleeding frustration. Cas simply disappeared.

            “Fuck!” Dean bellowed, slamming a fist into the wall where Castiel had just stood. He swung around to face me and I recoiled from the onslaught of emotional input. Anger rolled off him in waves, and it sank into me, igniting the heat.

            I struggled to tamp it down and understand what was going on. “Who’s Morton?”

            Sam ran a hand through his shaggy hair distractedly. “He was a seventh century Folklorist. We found every scrap of information on Chinuitors that we could while you were away, and he seemed to know the most about them. He believed that they were originally created as beings of light and healing, with an abundance of compassion and care for those around them. Apparently your case isn’t isolated, people have tried to turn Chinuitors forcefully before but something happens—because they were originally created as a healing and light filled species, the lore says any potential Chinuitor host can’t harbor negative energy or the process cannot be completed. They will remain in a constant state of stasis until the flux of the power overwhelms them.” Both he and Dean started pacing what little room was available, waiting for Cas to reappear. Their aggravation started pounding at my temples.

            “I don’t understand,” I struggled to focus, to keep my train of thought against the chaos of emotions bombarding me from around the room. “How have there _ever_ been Chinuitor then? Negative energy is a part of life, it’s unavoidable.”

            “True,” Bobby grunted. “Which is why I think the translation is a little rough and means a balanced amount of energy, both good and bad.” His evaluating gaze was heavy on my shoulders.

            “That means there was never any hope of getting through this.” My tone was flat. “From the very beginning every demon in that cellar worked at creating more negative energy. If the boys hadn’t gotten me out that torture would’ve gone on until they killed me.”

            Bobby’s attention suddenly shifted as if my words had flipped a switch in his brain. “That’s only true if Faulkner had done a purebred Chinuitor conversion…”

            “What are you saying, Bobby?” Sam crossed his arms over his broad chest.

            “Faulkner wouldn’t have made such a simple mistake. Even attempting this took decades of planning…” His words trailed off as he swept his hat off his head, scratching absently. “Faulkner would have calculated the balance in somehow, altered the blood tie to accommodate the extra darkness inside her--”

            Dean stopped in his tracks. “Wait, is the imbalance in her energy is the only thing keeping her power fluctuating?” The hope that bloomed in his chest nearly swept my breath away. “That means if we fix her energy, that fixes _everything_!”

            Cas abruptly reappeared on the far side of the room, a wary eye on each Winchester. “…No, Dean.”

            “What do you mean, _no_?” Dean snarled. “If too much dark energy is what is keeping her from becoming a Chinuitor, then why the hell not? We can fix this, Cas!”

            Cas hesitated.

            “ _Right_?” Dean pressed.

            Cas’s expression closed. “It’s not that simple, Dean.”

            “Of course not,” Dean fists clenched and a muscle ticked in his jaw. “Just like it’s not as simple as you _hid_ her from us and left her to battle the monsters _alone_ just for the hell of it.”

            “I brought her back for you, Dean,” Cas said sharply and the emotion in the room escalated from all directions. “You said her well-being was important to you. To all of you. So I brought her. _For you_.”

            “But you don’t think we can fix her,” Bobby’s voice roughened and his sudden wave of doubt nearly took me out at the knees.

            The angel’s expression was unreadable as the silence stretched out. “…There’s just as much risk putting her under that much strain physically as leaving her out there to fight that demon horde alone.”

            I managed to get to my feet. “Then why did you bring me here, Cas?” My words began to strain as I advanced on him determinedly, fighting hard to block out everyone’s mounting dread. “You said it was too dangerous out there, you said I had a chance at survival if we came back here. Why did you bring me here, Cas?!” He remained stoic and comprehension began to dawn. “You said they knew how to protect themselves from me. You said they figured out how to _contain_ me. You… you brought me back to here to die, didn’t you? _Didn’t you?!_ Answer me, you son of a bitch!”

            He swallowed hard and finally met my eyes. The regret in them was overwhelming. “The threat to innocents will be … contained, this way.”  
            The tension in the room ratcheted to an unbearable level and busted through the feeble shields I had been trying to keep up. A high, keening cry of pain filled the room and I folded into a fetal position, arms wrapped around my head to try and escape it. _Oh, god. It’s too much, I can’t handle it—the pain was tearing me apart…_ Warm arms wrapped around me, pulling me into an embrace and I fought it, touch only bringing in their emotions more strongly. Anxiety flowed from their pores, concern and helplessness an underlying layer and I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t block it out. It sank into me, pushing out all of my own thoughts and emotions and all I could feel was Dean.

            “Easy, it’s going to be okay, you’ll be all right…” Soft murmurs were whispered against my hair and his arms quickly subdued my frantic flailing. He pulled me into his lap and surrounded me with stress.

            “Please, make it stop…” I whimpered, arms still wrapped around my head, trying to block out that grating, keening wail.

            “Easy, baby girl, it’s going to be fine. We will figure this out, you’ll be all right.” He pulled me closer and the helplessness increased until I couldn’t block the tears running down my face.

            “Dean, you’re hurting her.”

            “Shut up, Cas!” He snapped and my tears flowed harder as his tension increased.

            “Her symptoms have changed in her time away, Dean, _listen_ to me-- what you knew as headaches and cramping muscles has progressed to these episodes.” Cas’s stoic calm was disintegrating further with every moment and even he was beginning to project that overwhelming sense of helplessness. “She is empathic now. Your embrace is hurting her, it’s burying her beneath your emotions. Can you not see the pain in her eyes?”

            A long string of profanities filled the air before the emotion in the room significantly dampened from all four sources. The keening wail stopped abruptly and I sucked in a shuddering breath, gutted to realize it had been coming from _me_. I had been the one wailing uncontrollably. I couldn’t stop the tears and Dean pulled me closer, the stifling anxiety giving way to the jagged press of quiet. Just a complete and utter sense of calm from him and then a very soft, very intentional wave of comfort.

            I wrapped my arms around him and buried my face in his neck, unable to choke back a fresh flood of relieved tears.

            “It’s fine, baby girl, you’re safe. We’ll take care of you.” He pressed soft kisses to my hair and his hand stroked gentle circles on my back. I knew I would regret this moment with him tomorrow but I felt completely stripped of my defenses. He pulled a blanket from the back of the couch and cocooned it around me, never ceasing his soft murmuring. His scent filled every breath I took--whiskey and motor oil and _Dean._

            I closed my eyes and cuddled in closer, drowning in his serenity and using it to anchor myself. I dropped under a wave of exhaustion with the other men’s voices a quiet rumble in the background and the soft notes of _Hey Jude_ hummed in my ear.


	14. Morning

            I panicked, bolting upright in bed. My heart thundered in my chest and wary anticipation raised the hair on the back of my neck. Dean was sprawled out beside me, sheets twisted around his legs as he shifted restlessly. His breath was coming fast and short, muscles bunching and expression tight even in sleep. Harsh grunts started to escape him and fear twitched across his features.

            I had no idea what the hell was going on but I was well familiar with the shadows. “Dean. _Dean._ Wake up, you’re having a nightmare.” I touched his chest, his t-shirt damp beneath my fingers. He reacted immediately, grabbing my wrist and flipping me to my back, using his forearms to box me in and loom over me in the darkness. I began to panic, his disorientation only aggravating the feeling. “Dean, get the hell off me.” I struggled beneath him, pain beginning to pound against my temples.

            “Alex?” His voice was rough, gravelly. “You’re okay?”

            “I will be if you get off!”

            “Damn.” He dropped his sweaty forehead to mine, our noses brushing together. “I dreamt… it doesn’t matter. I’m glad you’re ok.” He dropped a quick kiss on my lips and rolled off me.

            I laid in the tangled sheets in shock, my mouth tingling from the brief contact. What the fuck? I stared at him hard, trying to pick up on his emotions. Nothing. He had dropped some sort of blanket over his feelings and I got nothing but a sense of calm from him. “Dean.”

            “Yeah?” He flipped on the bedside lamp and got out of bed. The clock blinked 4:28. He grabbed the back of his collar and pulled his sweaty shirt over his head, swiped it across his face and dropped it to the floor. He opened the top drawer of the dresser and pulled out an identical one.

            I didn’t even know where to start. “Why … are we in bed together?”

            He turned, his mouth quirking with a mischievous grin. “You insisted.”

            “I did not!” I barked, scrambling to remember what happened after Cas explained he had brought me back to … contain me.

            He lifted a shoulder nonchalantly. “You fell asleep downstairs and when I tried to put you down you didn’t handle it well.” His eyes met mine in the dim light. “You were crying in your sleep. It was easier to just go to bed together. At least then I knew you’d get some rest.”

            I cleared my throat. Damn. No way to regain that ground. “What were you dreaming about?”

            He turned away from me, the low light throwing his back muscles in stark relief. “Doesn’t matter. Sorry I woke you up.” He slipped the shirt over his head and continued to rustle around in his dresser.

            I shifted restlessly on the bed, tugging the sheet up higher and hating the small part of me that had thrilled waking up beside him. “Don’t kiss me again.”

            He turned on his heel, gaze narrowing and I could feel emotions building up in him, but they were smothered beneath that blanket and I couldn’t quite get a grasp on them. “What?”

            “Don't. Kiss. Me. Again.” I jutted my chin out, determined to stand firm after the debilitating weakness I had shown in the past twelve hours. No way in hell was I going to acknowledge that my dreams of him were the only ones that didn’t end in darkness. That the memory of his arms wrapped around me and us breathing in sync had often shifted in the deepest part of the night to thoughts of us sharing the same breaths and our bodies wrapped in an entirely different kind of embrace.

            His eyes darkened at my order and he strode purposefully toward me, dropping a change of clothes for me on the bed and planting a fist on either side of my hips. I pulled back and he pushed the advantage, forcing me back until I hit the mattress, his scent enveloping me on all sides. “You want me to keep my distance? I call bullshit. You and I both know there have been enough sparks between us to set this bed on fire. And after spending the last month worried out of my fucking mind, not knowing if I’d see you again? I sure as hell _will_ be taking that mouth again, and next time it's not going to be some little peck.”

            I licked my lips, preparing a scathing retort that would set him back on his ass, re-establish the distance between us. I couldn’t afford to have him get this close, for him to want more than what we had. Neither of us could afford that with what was coming.

            “Lord, woman, you’re killing me.” Dean suddenly slid his hands beneath my butt and rolled us until I sprawled over his body, my legs naturally falling on either side of his hips. I stared at him in shock for a split second before he buried his hands in my hair and pulled me down to meet him. He went after my mouth like he was starving for it, and my response was hesitant, trying to process the instant flare of heat in my belly while simultaneously trying to pull away. He kissed like a dream, though, all wet heat and passion and it wasn’t long before I gave up on thinking altogether. A sudden wave of lust nearly toppled me, and I buried my hands in his shirt, struggling to find an anchor. Whatever he had used to suppress his emotions suddenly disappeared and there was so much rolling off him I got lost, caught up in the anticipation and heat. It was thrilling, and I suddenly reveled in being free of my own hesitations and fear and ever present defenses, just wallowing straight into his lack of inhibition. I couldn't deny how much I wanted this, and he was giving me the chance to grab onto it with both hands.

            He rolled us again until my back was to the mattress and he was leaning above me, bracing an arm above my head. My hands slipped beneath his shirt and his skin was firm, his muscles defined and clenching beneath my explorations. “Lex.” His rough rasp sent tingles down my spine and I arched in reaction, bringing myself up against him and rubbing against his firm chest. He growled and nipped the side of my neck, just where it met my shoulder, sending another toe-curling shiver down my spine.

            Heat was swirling tightly in my belly and I drew my knees up along his ribs, notching my center tighter against him. I rocked in a small motion, moaning at the small friction it afforded. My thoughts were hazy as I stared hard into his glittering green eyes. “Please, Dean. _Please_.”

            He growled and surged, fiercely pressing his lips back to mine. He flicked out his tongue and plundered his way into my mouth without a moment’s hesitation. I met his aggressive kisses with my own fire and heat, sliding one hand to the small of his back and pressing his hips tighter to mine and the other skimming his spine until it reached his broad shoulder. I sank my fingers into the muscles there and held him against me, all his strength and heat enveloping me. Hard kisses gave way to wet, open mouthed caresses along my throat and jawline, and I arched into them.

            He groaned at my movement, thrusting against me, our clothes a thin barrier to where we wanted to be. I tightened my legs around his hips, pressing against him with a moan, fingers tightening, digging into his burning skin. He rocked into me, slapping one hand to the headboard, the other dropping to my hip. He held me in place as he began to thrust against me, setting a pounding rhythm that set my blood singing despite the clothes between us. Our breath synchronized and I could feel the lust just burning through his veins. He was almost scorching with it, all heat and strength and the heady promise of sex and I couldn’t get enough.

            “Stop. _Stop!”_ His growl startled me and he slammed his fist against the headboard. He shoved away from me, all the way to the edge of the mattress. He dropped to his back and pressed his arm over his eyes, muscles flexing deeply in frustration.

            Fire still licked in my veins. “Dean, please—”

            He shoved off the bed and got to his feet, facing away from me. “We can't, Alex.”

            _What?_ “I don’t understand.” I sat up, heat still pounding low in my belly and every inch of me deliciously tingling.

            His glare was full of banked lust until he ran a rough hand over his face and stepped farther away from me. “We’re not doing this, Alex. Don’t make me repeat myself.” His entire body visibly vibrated with tension.

             “What the hell is wrong with you?” I snapped, straightening on the bed and pulling my shirt back into place. “You started it!”

             “It was a mistake--”

            His regret punched me in the gut and confusion enveloped me. I could still feel the lust pouring off him! Abruptly the tether holding us together snapped and his emotions were blanketed again, leaving me reeling. “Fuck you, Dean Winchester! What the hell do you want from me?”

            “Damn it, I just – we’re not-- …” He threw up his hands. “This whole fucking situation is complicated!”

            “No shit! That’s why we weren’t going to start anything like this!” What a load of bullshit. I got to my feet, struggling to find a sense of equilibrium. “Give me one good reason why you did. Just one _good_ reason, Dean.”

             “I wasn’t … I wasn’t thinking. We were in bed, and then that fucking dream…” He ran an agitated hand through his short hair, sending it askew.

            “So, you woke up and I was convenient?!” I snapped viciously. "Screw you!"

            His eyes snapped to mine. “This was not about you being convenient.”

            “Bullshit.” I was so stupid to think I could trust him, that in this fucked up mess of my life that he would be there to make it better, to give me some good memories to help erase the bad. 

            “Damn it, Alex--” His furious growl still sent tingles down my spine. “You _know_ this is a bad idea--”

            “I do! That’s why I told you not to kiss me!” Hell. My body was still humming for him. I needed some air. “Fuck it. Let’s just forget this ever happened.” I brushed past him into the hallway, trying to gather my composure as I went.

            “Alex, wait. Wait, damn it!” He grasped at my elbow at the top of the steps and spun me around. “What do you want from me?!”

            “I feel we were both pretty clear on what we wanted. Until you decided to act like a jackass.” I stared at him frostily, desperately trying to shut down my emotions the same way he did his.

            “That’s not what I mean. That? In there? That’s the last thing you need right now.”

            “Damn it, Dean, don’t you dare tell me what I need!” My fist curled, and I seriously contemplated punching him in his self-righteous face.

            He gritted his teeth together so hard I heard his jaw click. “It’s been one month – one fucking month – since I helped put you back together. Stitches and gauze can only do so much, Alex, and I know for damn sure that a month on your own fighting demons isn’t going to help you work through the shit you went through. Stokes—” He bit off his sentence, visibly fighting back rage even though I felt nothing but a high-energy hum from him. “Stokes told me every goddamn thing those monsters did to you. Every one. Don’t think for a minute that I didn’t make him pay for every single second they tortured you.”

             Icy cold shame washed over me, and I felt the blood drain from my face. Fuck. Just … fuck.

            “So, that? In there? I know I started it. I know I shouldn’t have but I couldn’t help myself.  I’ve been so fucking worried about you this past month--” He bit off the rest of his words, his eyes pained. “I just couldn’t help it, Alex. I was right there with you, and we both know where we would’ve ended up if it had gone on a minute longer. I _wanted_ that, with you.” The longing in his eyes sucked the breath straight out of my lungs. “But then all I could think about was what Stokes said they did, what all happened to you…” His eyelids dropped low and he wrapped a hand around the back of my neck, pulling me in stiflingly close. “I couldn’t do it, Alex… I just couldn’t do it.”

 _Damn it._ I swallowed hard, the shame sinking into a cold ball of dread in the pit of my stomach. _Damaged. Filthy. Scarred._ I dropped my gaze, unable to meet the intensity of his look. He had every right to feel that way, and I couldn’t fault him for it even a little. I tried to block out the gut wrenching sense of loss that suddenly overwhelmed me. What a joke. I had just wanted one good thing to hold tight to for the time I had left, to push away the darkness at night and the memories that terrorized my dreams. But Dean was right -- things had been done to me, things that had left me damaged. I wasn’t fit to kiss him let alone try and create something beautiful together. I had nothing beautiful left inside me to give. “I – I understand. Let’s just forget it ever happened.”

            “Alex—” He ran a hand over his face.

            “Dean, _please._ Just drop it. I get it.”

            Soft footfalls sounded down the hallway and Sam appeared, absurdly quiet for someone of his size. A heavy press of worry and concern needled at my temples and I realized it was coming from him. “Everything ok up here?”

            “It’s fine, Sam. How are you feeling?” I turned my back on Dean, intentionally putting up walls mentally to help block out Sam’s emotions and to block mine in. There was enough to deal with as it was.

            Sam shot a look between us. “Bobby’s got breakfast on, said to come down and eat when you’re hungry.”

            “Thank you, Sam. I’m starving.” I brushed past him and down the steps. I was halfway down the stairwell before Sam’s low statement reached me.

            “That better not be what I think it was.” Anger swirled with his concern. "Don't you think she has enough to deal with right now--!"

            “--Shut up, Sam. It’s none of your business.”

           Sam's frustrated curse followed me down into the front hallway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I do not own Supernatural but sure do love borrowing the beloved characters and playing in their world for a short while.*


	15. Sam

     Sam grabbed my elbow before I reached the kitchen. “Alex?”

     “Want to join me for breakfast, Sam?” I pasted on a smile. Numbness suddenly spread through me, a blessed reprieve from the oppressive emotions in this house. Relief nearly took me out at the knees as I realized my empathic sensitivity was gone, at least for now. At best, I had a few hours before it was back again, but at least the only emotions pounding at my temples now were my own. I straightened, trying to regroup from Dean’s withdrawal and focus on Sam’s concerned gaze.

     “Are you ok? What did Dean do?”

     I eased out of his grasp, every inch of my skin still humming for his brother. “Nothing, Sam, he didn't do anything.”

     Sam ran his hands through his hair in agitation. “Come on, you’re upset and he's not talking. What happened?”

     I wrestled with how to respond, just wanting to find some space to breathe. “Nothing you need to worry about.” 

     He jutted his chin out stubbornly. “Just tell me how badly I need to kick Dean’s ass.” I tried to slip past him but he sidestepped, blocking my path. “Alex. Come on. Talk to me.”

     I sighed, brushing tangled hair out of my face. Dean’s big hands had turned it into a rat’s nest. “Please just drop it, Sam. I don’t want to talk about this with you.”

     He refused to let me pass him in the hallway. “Tough luck. I’m not moving until you do.”

     The earnest stubbornness in his eyes weaseled beneath my defenses, but that realization only made my back stiffen. “You want to talk? Then answer a question for me. Were you there when Dean interrogated Stokes?”

     Caution entered his gaze and my gut sank. “…Yes.”

     “So you heard what happened. What they did to me.” My words came out flat. Hard. Empty of emotion.

     Sam winced. “Some.”

     “Don’t bullshit me," I snapped coldly. "Dean told me Stokes was … detailed.”

     “Son of a bitch,” Sam hissed, casting a glare up the stairwell. “You were not supposed to know he said all that shit. It didn't change anything – we knew it was pretty bad when we found you.” His gaze sharpened. “It didn’t change what we think of you. What I think of you.”

     I wished like hell that I had been able to destroy Stokes in that cabin before Cas arrived. The boys had surely killed him by now, but the bastard’s touch was still managing to taint everything in my life. “Cut the shit, Sam. Of course it changed things.” Shame crawled across my skin and stole the last of the warmth Dean had left behind. “Things happened in that cellar that I’ll never be able to forget. I see them, I relive them, every fucking time I close my eyes. I know that nothing can erase that, nothing can remove their touch from my memory, but a small part of me wondered... if Dean—” I sighed, shoving my hair out of my face. “He had a bad dream and I was there. That’s it. Things got a little carried away and Dean came to his senses. He … recognized that my past will always be between us. He was honest with me about how he felt. That's it.”

     Sam clenched his fists, eyes fierce. “He cut and run, didn’t he?”

     I sighed, taking a step back from his intensity, desperately craving the end of this conversation. “Come on, Sam, it’s not his fault. The things you heard from Stokes, the stories? Every single one left its mark while taking another part of me. Why should I fault him for not wanting this?” I rubbed a finger along my scarred face.  

     “Scars have nothing to do with it.” Sam snapped. “If Dean backed off, it was not because of that.”

     I shook my head, unable to meet his gaze and struggling to find a way to make him understand. “Every time I change my clothes, every time I shower--I  _see_  what they did to me, Sam, over and over again. It’s not enough that I dream about it—I just glance at Krieger’s initials and his voice starts running through my mind, telling me that I’m his, that he’s claimed me and even my body belongs to him.” I realized I was digging my nails into my thigh and forced myself to stop the restless movement.  “So yes, Dean decided he doesn’t want to fuck me. Even if he could see past the scars, he now knows the gritty details of exactly how many demons have raped me. He now shares the memories of what I’ve been through, you both do. Nobody should have to overlook that much baggage just to get laid.” I shrugged, fighting back the sick swell of shame and hopelessness that felt like it would never go away.

     Sam straightened, an intensity building in him with every word I spoke. My last statement had finally pushed him to the edge. “You know it’s not just about that. Dean wouldn’t use you that way—”

     I cut him off. “Look. Whatever Dean would or wouldn’t do is irrelevant. Stokes told you both. It's over and done with. This thing with Dean is what it is. Starting something in the middle of this cluster is the last thing I need, anyway. He's fine, I'm fine, so for fuck’s sake, can we please stop talking about it now?”

     Sam clenched his jaw, a ferocity edging his tone. “Not until I tell you something. You’re one of the strongest, most incredible people I’ve ever met. Those scars have nothing to do with who you are.” Sam suddenly closed the distance between us, laying his big hand along my face, his thumb tracing one of the scars on my cheekbone. Conflict brewed in his hazel eyes. “If Dean let you walk out, that’s because of Dean’s issues, not because you’re somehow not enough. Those things happened to you, yes, but your scars just tell the story of the amazing woman you became despite them. All those things happened in your past, but they aren’t your future.”

     “My future?” I scoffed. “Cas said I don’t have a future, remember?”

     Sam’s jaw clenched. “Cas said it was dangerous, not that it was impossible. We’ll find a way and you’ll make it through this. And Alex, I want your future to be here, with us. With _me_.”

     The conflict in his eyes shifted to intent and he leaned toward me, bending in for a kiss.

     “What the hell is this?!” Dean’s shout shattered my frozen shock and I scrambled away from Sam, panic tumbling through my mind. Dean stomped into the hallway and I barely heard their escalating argument as claustrophobia started to crawl up my spine. Sam had tried to kiss me. _Sam_ had tried to _kiss_ me! What the fuck?!

     “…dealing with enough’? You have the balls to bitch at me for being insensitive, but here I find you—”

     “Oh, come off it. She deserves better than to have her past held against her—it’s not her fault, Dean!”

     “You think I don’t know that?!”

     “Why the hell did you tell her about Stokes?”

     “This is not about Stokes! You were going to _kiss_ her!” Dean made it sound like the worst betrayal and I tuned out their words, turning away from them both and leaning against the wall. My heart was pounding in my chest and I could hardly pull myself together.

 _Damn it!_ Why couldn’t I handle this? Here was Sam, kind and gentle Sam, and he _wanted_ me. But the only thing I felt was panic clawing up the inside of my throat. I had two friends in this world and they were both currently engaged in a shouting match three feet away. I couldn’t lose Sam, not to something so weak as his belief that he had feelings for me. No matter how deeply he thought he felt, I would never be able to give him what he wanted. Dean already had far more of me than I was comfortable with and that was without any encouragement on his part. My draw toward Dean was soul deep and completely involuntary. The realization made that choked feeling worsen. When the hell had this pull between us gotten so out of control? We had spent only days together before Cas had interfered. So how had he weaseled beneath my defenses and become part of me, part of my life? Sam had worked his way into my life just the same, but he was like a brother and just the thought of kissing him made me feel nauseous. A gut deep feeling of _wrong_ had me turning back toward them. I couldn’t let Sam’s confusion tear us all apart. I had to fix this, and I had to do it now. Sheer strength of will had me moving back toward them, focusing all my energy on appearing calm.

     “Are you serious right now?” Sam was planted firmly on his heels, not hesitating to tower his height over his older brother.

     The fact that Dean had to tip his chin up to look at him just pissed him off further. “I’m not the one out of line here! You knew she was off limits—”

     “You don’t determine who I can and can’t kiss, Dean.” Sam’s tone was hard.

     “I do when she’s my girl!”

     “I’m not,” I interrupted coldly, my hands fisting at my sides. “I’m not your _girl,_ I’m not your anything, Dean. You can’t claim me so get off your fucking high horse.” 

     Dean shifted defensively, preparing a retort.

     I forged on, not giving him a chance. “Sam--It was very sweet, what you said. I—I don’t have many friends, but I consider you one of them. You’re like a brother to me—”

     Sam sighed, taking a step back from me. “Look, I get it. I just … I want you to know that I care about you. A lot, Alex, and I hate hearing you talk about yourself like you’re broken. You’re _not._ You’re so strong--”

     “If she’s so strong, what does she need you for?” Dean snapped.

     “You’re the reason she thinks she’s broken, Dean!” Sam fired right back, eyes blazing.      

     “Enough!” I barked. “We are not doing this. The three of us arguing is just stupid. I have some seriously more important shit going on than worrying about offending either one of you, so let’s clear this up right now. Sam, I’m flattered you think so highly of me. But you’re my brother. I hope this isn’t going to affect our friendship because it means the world to me.”

     Sam nodded in silent acceptance.

     “And Dean—” My tone immediately sharpened and he straightened in defense. “Get over yourself. You have no right to claim me, you made your opinion abundantly clear. Whatever happens between me and Sam has nothing to do with you, so get your head out of your ass. You understand me? Now all three of us are going to forget any of this ever happened and we are going to move forward. None of this _ever_ comes up again, understo--?”

     “Alexis!”  Cas suddenly appeared in the hallway, his urgency sending a skitter down my spine. “You need to come with me. Immediately.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I do not own Supernatural but sure do love borrowing the beloved characters and playing in their world for a short while.*


	16. Uninvited Guest

     Both Sam and Dean went on high alert. “What’s wrong, Cas? What happened?”

     “I need you to come with me immediately, Alexis.” His trench coat was rustling with his abrupt movements as he hurried toward us, forehead pinched in concern. “We need to start preparations for your next wave of sickness. It is going to be very … difficult. There is no time to waste.”

     The hallway was already crowded and the angel’s presence just shrank the available space down to nothing. “My last one just ended, Cas. We have a few hours—”

     His blue eyes sharpened. “I do not have time to argue. You need to be protected as much as possible and take the time you have to prepare. An unavoidable series of events is about to occur, and you do not need to be present for it. You need to conserve your strength. Come with me to the basement—”

      A loud knock at the front door cut him off.

      My gaze darted to the front door and back, and the resignation in Cas’s eyes made my stomach sink. “What’s happening, Cas? Who is it?”

      “What the hell is going on, Cas?” Dean growled, taking a protective stance in front of me.

      “Let Sam and Dean handle who is at that door. You should come with me to the panic room in the basement. Stay there until the coming events have passed. Sam and Dean can—”

      “Who is it, Cas?” I demanded, a second knock at the door raising the tension in the crowded hallway.

      “You will not stay in the basement?” His beseeching tone warned me more than any words he could have used. Shit was about to hit the fan. “I am asking, Alexis. You are not strong enough to—”

      I stiffened. If hell was coming knocking, then I was going to kick its ass. Cas wanted me to hide and let the boys fight for me? “Fuck that. I’m not hiding behind them. Get out of the way.”  
      Sam touched my shoulder, his eyes earnest. “Come on, Alex, if Cas thinks it’s dangerous—”

      I pulled out of his reach, irritated and fighting back my growing sense of unease. “My next wave might be coming but it’s not here now. I’m answering the door.”

      Cas held my gaze for a long, searching moment before moving to the side. “Sam, Dean, prepare yourselves. She will need to rely on you both a great deal with what is ahead. I have done my utmost to prevent the coming events but there is nothing else I can do. If she will not heed my advice, then there are other events I need to address.” And with that, he disappeared.

 _Damn fucking angels_. I stomped the last few steps to the front door, trepidation curling up inside me. _Full of dire prophecies and then split whenever the hell they feel like it._ I pulled a bowie knife from the hidden holster at my lower back and flipped it twice through my fingers, ignoring Dean’s muttering about a stubborn pain in his ass and the heavy weight of Sam’s silence as they both checked their ever present weapons behind me.

     “Are we going to answer the door or let them stew out there all day?” Bobby appeared in the doorway to the kitchen, grabbing a rifle off the wall and checking the chambers.

     Sam and Dean crowded in behind me, rolling their shoulders and tensing for whatever was on the other side of the door, the reassuring snap of Bobby chambering a round filling the doorway. I took one deep, bracing breath before grabbing the door handle. I flung it open, falling into a defensive crouch.

     “Aly?”

     Grady.

     Sean fucking Grady stood on Bobby’s doorstep.

     My childhood friend. The one person I had let get close to me. The one I had watched walk out of my life in search of something better. _Grady_. The knife clattered out of my hand and I threw my arms around him, ignoring Sam and Dean’s warning shouts. I ignored them splashing holy water on us and the muttered _Christo_ from Sam. I ignored it all and tightened my grasp, shock blasting through me and disintegrating all conscious thought. One fact managed to form in my mind: my family had finally come for me.

      “Hey.” He said quietly, finally wrapping his arms around me loosely.

      “Hi.” I answered softly, pulling him in even closer.

      “…You going to let me in?” He patted the back of my head and pulled back enough to look at me, a smile in his eyes.

      I reluctantly released him and drank in his familiar features. He looked amazing. His eyes were bright, his pale skin healthy and he had finally grown into his lanky frame. He didn’t look like he had aged a day in the three years we’d been apart. “Of course. Come in, come in.” I stepped back and drew him into the entryway. “How the hell did you find me?”

      He laughed and shrugged. “There’s only one Singer’s Salvage Yard in Sioux Falls. Stand straight a minute, let me just look at you.” He beamed at me, eyes skating over my figure and lingering on Dean’s baggy clothes. “You’re all in one piece, guess that’s something.”

      Ironic laughter bubbled out of me. “Yep, all in one piece. I can’t believe you’re standing in front of me.” Silence fell as I just drank in his presence. Bobby finally cleared his throat, pulling me out of my daze. “Let me introduce everyone. Grady, this is Bobby Singer. Bobby, this is my friend, my very dearest friend, Sean Grady.” I held my breath, feeling as though everything was tilting on its axis as my two worlds collided.

      Bobby just grunted and held out his hand, eyes watchful. Their handshake lasted a long moment and when Bobby released it, Grady surreptitiously flexed his hand at his side, offering a brief reserved smile with a nod of his head.

      Dean loudly slid the hammer back on the shotgun he was cradling. I tensed, turning on my heel to reach out to grab Grady’s hand, lacing our fingers together. “Grady, this is Sam and Dean Winchester.” My gaze caught Dean’s and I glared a warning for him to play nice. His stony expression didn’t change, and neither brother offered to shake hands.

      Grady cleared his throat a bit uncomfortably. “Nice to meet you both.”

      “They … they’ve helped me out of some tight spots recently.” I bit my lip, not sure if I was giving him a reason to like them or trying to explain my presence in their house.

      Grady’s focus tightened on me. “Tight spots? What’s been going on?” His expression shifted dramatically as he noticed all the scars. He moved back and separated from our hand hold, using both hands to turn me toward a light. “Holy crap, Aly! What happened?!”

      I brushed his concern away. “I’m fine. None of that matters.” I offered him a bright smile. “You’re here. That’s the only thing that _does_ matter. Are you hungry? Bobby was just making breakfast. Bobby, is there enough for one more? I want to hear about everything!”

      “I think we need to get some questions answered first, Alex.” Bobby seemed reluctant to deny me, but equally reluctant to let the stranger farther into his house. “You’ll have to forgive me,” he directed at Grady with an unapologetic grimace that passed for a smile, “I’m a paranoid bastard.”

      “All that can wait, Bobby, can’t it? I haven’t seen him in three years! We know he’s –” I stuttered, trying to think of wording suitable for Grady’s uninformed oblivion, “—safe, can’t we at least eat something first before all that?” My gaze bounced around the three males in the entryway, feeling the weight of their tension. “Please, Bobby. It’s breakfast. Let’s all eat together.”

      Bobby’s gaze shifted to Sam and Dean and the three of them held a long tense conversation with their silence. Dean slowly brought up his loaded shotgun and laid it lovingly across his other arm, cradling it like a child, making his opinion clear. Sam shifted on his feet, seeming torn. Bobby sighed. “Breakfast. Then we need some answers.”

      I grabbed Grady’s hand again and squeezed it, so excited I felt sick. His eyes lingered on my scars, his uneasiness clear despite his silence.

      We filed into the kitchen, the big open space suddenly feeling tight. Bobby went to the stove where he had stacks of flapjacks waiting. Sam pulled plates out of the cupboard and searched for enough forks and knives for all of us. Dean pulled a chair out and gestured me into it, shotgun steady in the other hand. I sat down and he settled on my right. His eyes tracked Grady as he went to the seat on my left without a word. Sam appeared with a fistful of flatware and, pretending to be oblivious to the fact that Grady was in the midst of sitting down, pulled the chair out and sat on my left. Grady straightened and shot him a quick irritated glance before settling down across from me. I flashed him a soothing smile and kicked both of the boys beneath the table, hard enough that Dean grunted.

      “I can’t believe you’re really here.”

      Grady grinned at me, easing the nervous knot in my belly. “It’s good to see you, Aly. Even if it does look like we have a lot to catch up on.” His gaze touched on the scars all over my face and I fidgeted, dropping my hands to my lap and tugging my sleeves over the thick scars the handcuffs had left behind.

      “How was New York? Looks like it agrees with you.” I felt as if my face were twitching into a smile every two seconds but couldn’t seem to stop it. Grady was here. In Bobby’s kitchen. Passing me the butter.

      He lifted one shoulder, taking half of the flapjacks and sliding them onto his plate. “It was crowded. Lots of people, lots of things to see. Once you get past all the flash and pizazz though, the streets are all the same. Not all that different than Ohio, really.”

      “Different enough you stayed for three years,” Sam pointed out.

      “Well, yes. I met a lot of interesting people there.”

      Silently, Dean took the next two flapjacks and put them on my plate, his green gaze darkening at Grady’s answer. I poked him in the knee under the table. “I can feed myself, Dean, thank you,” I hissed softly.

      “Just being polite,” he hissed right back and my stomach dropped when I felt the full force of his glare. He was not a happy camper.

      “Dean—” I warned, and Bobby cleared his throat knowingly, stopping the argument before it began.

      “So how long have you been here?” Grady asked, watched the two of us. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you put up with so many people in one house for more than a day or two.” He chuckled, relaxing into his chair.

     Nervously, I weighed how much to share. “Not long. Just got in last night.” I bit the inside of my lip, wanting to shift the focus back to him so I wouldn’t have to lie about anything. “I can’t believe how long it’s been since I’ve seen you -- it feels like a lifetime ago.”

      Grady drowned his plate in syrup before passing it to me. “It _was_ a lifetime ago. How have you been? Before all that mess, I mean.” He gestured at my face, and I brushed aside the scars.

      “Fine. Good. I barely remember what was going on when you left, what I was doing.” I gave a quick blasé smile but the truth was that I felt as if a hazy shroud were over my life before my abduction. I remembered flashes, quick bright memories of single moments in time but the details were slippery. I was hesitant to push the memories -- my good and bad memories were too closely interwoven. I couldn’t let any of the bad memories touch my relationship with Grady. He had finally come back to me. I couldn’t let any of this darkness touch his life.

      “You were convinced you were going to become an artist,” Grady laughed. “An overnight sensation, if I remember right.”

      “An artist?” Sam turned to me in surprise. “You never mentioned that.”

      That pulled foggy impressions forward in my thoughts, and I shrugged. “I loved drawing. Didn't mean I was good at it.”

      Grady nodded in agreement, eyes teasing. “You were convinced you were for a long time, though. You sure drew on every scrap of paper that you could find, and left doodles all over our apartment.”

      “You had an apartment together?” Dean straightened in his chair.

      Grady lifted an eyebrow at Dean’s first growling attempt at conversation. “Yes, we grew up together, didn’t she tell you? We’ve been together since we were eight, just the two of us. I’ve always taken care of her.”

      A warm feeling spread inside me even as Dean stiffened.

      “A scrawny thing like you?” Bobby scoffed, nursing a cup of coffee. “I’ve seen that girl angry. I have a feeling she took care of herself.”

      “If you took such good care of her, why didn’t you know she was missing?” Sam's tone was sharp.

      I froze at the question, the warmth inside me turning brittle.  

      “Missing?” Grady’s gaze turned to me, his forehead furrowed. “Is that when you got all those scars?”

      “That’s enough, Sam. It’s fine, Grady. I’m fine. It’s nothing you need to worry about. Tell me about you. About Clarissa. Were you able to find her in New York?” My grip tightened on my fork.

      “Aly, I want to hear—”

      I raised my hand, cutting him off. “I don’t want to talk about it. Is Clarissa here with you?”

      Grady sighed, frustration building in his eyes. “I left her in New Hampshire at her grandmother’s. At least tell me how long were you missing?”

      I let out a rough breath. “I don’t want to--”

      “Three months.” Dean answered, swiftly grabbing my knee to block the kick I sent his way. His grip tightened, holding me in place as he flicked a warning glance at me.

      Grady’s gaze bounced around the table before coming back to me. “What happened?”

      “I was missing. They found me. I’m fine.”

      “You are _not_ fine,” Dean corrected, green eyes lit with anger.

      “Damn it, Dean—” I tried to shove his hand off my knee but he flipped his hand around and grasped mine under the table. His grip was warm, tight, and an unwelcome skitter of awareness filled my head with thoughts of his skin beneath my touch. His calloused thumb rubbed against the back of my hand in maddening circles as he turned his attention back to Grady. “If you cared about her, took care of her like you said, you should’ve been there. Where were you?”

      “I don’t – I don’t know. When did it happen?” Grady faltered under the strength of Dean’s glare.

      “You should know that, shouldn’t you, boy?” Bobby rumbled behind him. "You were the only one she had looking out for her."

      “How were you supposed to check on her if you didn’t leave her with a cell phone?” Sam leaned forward in his chair, brows lowered.

      “I didn’t think she would need one - she’s always found a way to contact me--”

      _“'Always'?_ How many times did you leave her behind?” Sam ran a hand through his hair, shooting me a disbelieving glance.

      “It wasn’t like that,” Grady defended himself. “I always made sure she had a place to stay. She was resourceful. She didn’t need me babysitting her—”

      "No, but she _did_ need someone who gave two fucks about her.” Dean pushed his chair back, green eyes shooting sparks. “She was missing for a hundred and five days. She wasn’t off on a camping trip, out of cell service, or shacked up with somebody having a good time. She was fucking kidnapped for _a hundred and five days._ If you only knew how wrecked she was when we found her—!”

      “SHUT THE FUCK UP!” I shoved back from the table and shoved Dean hard, catching him off guard and knocking him back on his ass. “Shut up!” He scrambled back up, more surprised than hurt as I shoved him again but he planted his feet and held firm, his jaw clenching. “Fuck you, Dean Winchester. None of that story is yours to tell. _None_ of it, you understand me?!” I grabbed a fistful of his shirt, hoping the fury was clear in my eyes.

      "Alex, you need to calm down..." Sam warned.  

      “He should’ve been there, Lex.” Dean refused to have enough common sense to back off. “He should’ve fucking well been there. Sam and I were camped out in that town for six months chasing down leads.  _Six months_. If we had heard even a whisper of a missing person we would’ve been looking for you. We would’ve _found_ you. As far as I’m concerned, everything that happened to you is on him!”

      “What the hell! He had been gone for three _years_ , Dean.” I tried to shake him but he was solid, his anger stealing all the air around me. I spun around to his brother. “Tell him, Sam. He’s being completely absurd."

       "Look, I think we should just take a breather--" Sam cautioned.

      A tingling heat started at the base of my skull and I sucked in a furious breath in an attempt to regain control. “Look, I’m through arguing with you. Grady was what helped me survive, Dean – he’s _all_ of my good memories, so find somewhere else to shove all your blame.” I circled over to Grady’s side of the table where he gaped at me in astonishment. “That’s all over. And done. I don’t want to talk about any of it and neither should anyone else.” My heart pounded in my chest and I fought to keep the shiver of heat from going into a full blown episode. Cas already had me on a countdown clock and I did _not_ have time to deal with that shit right now. This was probably the last time I would ever see Grady and I had to make the most of every minute. I turned to find Bobby frozen, gaze darting between Dean and me with his coffee cup halfway to his mouth. “Bobby, thank you for breakfast. I appreciate you all joining us but I would appreciate it if Grady and I could enjoy the rest of breakfast alone.”

      “So, that’s it? You’re kicking us all out?” Dean snapped.

      I ignored him, my gaze locked on the grizzled man in a faded blue trucker’s cap. “Bobby, please.”

      Slowly, deliberately, he placed his coffee mug on the counter. “I’m sorry, darlin', I can’t. I understand that you don’t want to talk about things. Hell, I don’t blame you. But, this really is not the best time for long lost friends to be showing up unannounced, you get me?”

      Tension crawled up my spine. “What are you saying, Bobby?”

      He raised his hands in defense. “I’m not accusing that boy of anything, but I need some answers.”

      This was like some twisted version of introducing your prom date to your parents. Except the ‘family’ in this case was still carrying loaded weapons. I ran a hand through my tangled hair in frustration. “This is ridiculous, Bobby—”

      Grady twisted in his seat to give me an impatient look. “Hey. Why don’t you just tell them?”

      I stared at him in confusion. “Tell them what?”

      He raised an eyebrow at me. “Tell them why I’m here.”

      “I…I don’t understand. Why _are_ you here?”

      He gave my hand a shake, impatience in his eyes. “You asked me to come. Last night, you texted me – how you got my new number I have no idea – but you texted and said that you wanted to meet up. Told me to meet you here, at Singer’s Salvage Yard in Sioux Falls. Lucky for you, I was only a couple hours away visiting friends. So here I am.” He turned to Bobby, impatience creeping into his tone. “I don’t know what you think is going on here, but that’s it. I’m here to visit, spend some time with an old friend, and then I’ll be on my way back to New York in a few days.”

      Cold spread down my spine, numbing everything inside me.

      Grady continued, “You weren’t kidding when you said you were a paranoid bastard, were you?” He let out a hollow laugh that did nothing to soothe the tension.

      Bobby just grunted. “Let me see your phone, boy.”

      Grady threw me an incredulous look and I rallied on his behalf. “Do you really think that’s necessary, Bobby?” My words came out flat.

      “ _Did_ you text him, Alex?”

      I swallowed hard, slowly shaking my head.

      “I know she didn’t.” Dean interjected, his voice sure. “I was with her all night. She never even glanced at my phone.”

      Grady’s eyebrows rose.

      “Then I need to see your phone.” Bobby held out his hand in demand.

      Reluctantly Grady pulled it out of his pocket and handed it over. Sam moved to Bobby’s side and they turned away, Bobby’s thick fingers already swiping through the screens.

      “I don’t understand,” Grady leaned forward, his pale hands curling on the scarred tabletop, his gaze narrowing. “I got a text from _you_ —”

      “I don’t know who texted you, Grady, but it wasn’t me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I do not own Supernatural but sure do love borrowing the beloved characters and playing in their world for a short while.*


	17. Two Options

_I’ll be back on my way to New York in a few days_ …

       Grady’s words kept looping through my head as the noise level in the kitchen escalated with Sam and Bobby debating the best way to back trace the text. _A few days … a few days … a few days…_ “Grady?”

       He reluctantly pulled his skeptical attention off Bobby and the boys. “Are they always this suspicious or am I giving off a gangster vibe?”

       I quirked an eyebrow at him with a small smile. “You know you couldn’t be gangster if you tried, string bean.”

       He smiled back, but his eyes darted to where Dean was watching us like a hawk. He was leaning against the counter, arms across his chest, making no attempt to hide the fact that he was listening.

       I did my best to block him out. “…Are you really only here for a few days?”

       Grady tugged on his earlobe. “To be honest, I’m not even really sure I should stay at all. They obviously don’t want me here—”

       Oh hell no. “Don’t worry about that. They’ll come around. Please stay—”

       A hand fell on my shoulder and I tensed. Dean. “Can I talk to you in the hallway a minute? Privately?”

       I gritted my teeth. “Not now, Dean.”

       His grip tightened. “Yeah, now, Alex. We need to talk.”

       I shook off his touch, not liking the look in Grady’s eyes as he waited for me to respond. “Grady, maybe we can –”

       “ _Alex_.”

       Damn it. He used the low growly voice, the one that sounded like rocks in a bucket and sent a shiver up my spine. “Fine! Two minutes.”

       Without another word, Dean grabbed my wrist and dragged me out of the kitchen. I tried to keep my temper under wraps until we reached the relative privacy of the hallway but Dean barely paused before tightening his grip and dragging me farther, straight out the back door. I wrestled free of his grasp and gave him a hard shove as the screen door slapped shut behind us. “Let go of me!”

       “Something’s not right with him, Alex, and you know it. None of this adds up!”

       “Don’t wrap this up in some conspiracy theory, Dean, you and Bobby are just paranoid!”  
        His eyes hardened. “He got a text. With your exact location. You haven’t been here a full 24 hours, Alex, and someone sent him here to find you. I don’t know why or what the hell is going on, but you have to realize you may not know him as well as you think. A person can change a lot in three years.”  
        I choked in disbelief. “What, you think Grady is somehow mixed up with this _Faulkner_ mess _?_ He doesn’t know anything about any of this supernatural shit! Even if he did, why do you have to go and assume he would be one of the bad guys? That’s bullshit, Dean!”

       “What do you mean, he doesn’t know about the supernatural shit? You were some kind of healer even before all this. You’re telling me he never noticed you transferring injuries to yourself before?” Skepticism rode his tone hard.

       “Well he knew _that_ but—”

       “Who else knew?”

       “What?”

       “Who else knew you were a healer? Faulkner and his goons found out about you _somehow_. Maybe—”

       “Fuck off, Dean.” I snapped icily. “Grady did not out me to Faulkner. He’s the only family I’ve got.”

       He stared at me a long moment. “Sometimes family hurts you the worst.”

       I growled, clenching my fists. “Why are you so determined to make him a bad guy? If there is one person in the world that I trust its _Grady—_ ”

       “Why?!” Dean snarled. “What has he ever done for you? Sam told me about the one time you mentioned him and he pushed you too hard about it. You went off on your own because you didn’t want to talk about Grady. You nearly got all three of us killed because of _him._ You said he wasn’t part of your life anymore. Well, he’s here now. And I want to know _why._ Why did he leave in the first place, Alex?”

       “I am not talking about this with you.” I tried to slip past him but he grabbed me around the waist and spun us around tightly, keeping me within the circle of his arms.

       “You want to convince me he’s not a bad guy? Tell me what happened. Because him showing up out of the blue is just too damn suspicious.”

       “Don’t fucking manhandle me!” I struggled within his hold. “I’ll knock you flat on your ass.”

       He snorted. “Yeah, right.”

       “Don’t fucking test me, Dean,” I warned. “Let me go.”

       He held me a moment longer, his eyes intent with consequence if I tried to escape the conversation again. He waited until I quit squirming and cautiously released me. “Now, what happened with Grady?”

       “It’s none of your damn business!” I blew out an angry breath, fighting the urge to punch him in the throat. “If the only reason you dragged me back here was to hound me about Grady and warn me that he’s out to turn me into a monster then I think we’re done here.”

       “Like hell we are! I don’t trust that fucker any farther than I can throw him. If you want me to sit there with my hands up my ass just waiting for him to hurt you, then you better give me a damn good reason. He’s already got a good thrashing coming his way for not protecting you when he damn well should have.”

       I just glared at him.

       “Come on, Alex. Those are the two options: give me a reason to back off or don’t stand in my way.” Dean straightened, his green eyes glittering.

       “You’re a real son of a bitch, you know that?” I snarled. “Fine. The big back story you’re after is not very exciting. When I was eighteen, he fell in love with this girl, Clarissa. She packed up and moved to New York one day. He followed her and ended up staying. That’s it.”

        “If that’s you trying to convince me that he’s not an asshole, you did a piss-poor job of it.”

        I rolled my eyes. “Give me a break.”

       “He left you behind. For a _fling._ ” Yep, somehow that had managed to make Grady sink even lower in his opinion.

       I crossed my arms over my chest, realizing no matter what I said, he wasn’t going to be satisfied. “Not a fling. They’re still together. Besides, how can you be mad about that? He realized he wanted a future with her and that was that.”

       “Why are you defending him? The asshole left you behind. _Family_ doesn’t leave you behind, they always have your back.”

       What bullshit. “Oh, so family always has your back? Sam left you and went to college. It was time to move on and he did. You saying Sam isn’t family?”

       “That is _not_ the same thing.” Dean growled.

       “Isn’t it?”

       A muscle started jumping in his jaw. “Sam came back. He –”

       “And now Grady is back for me.”

       “No, he isn’t! That asshole had the balls to tell you that you were _lucky_ he was only a few hours away when he got the text! Hell, it’s been three years and he’s not even sure if he’s going to stay and see you at all!”

       “So what? Not every family lives in each other’s pockets like you guys do! People move on, Dean, it doesn’t mean they don’t care about you!”

       “You’re so blind to this douche bag it’s making me sick. There’s a difference between moving on and flat out leaving someone behind. You were in that cellar for a hundred and five days, Alex. He never came for you. I’ve been through torture; I know what thoughts run through your mind. How the _fuck_ did your endless belief in him survive through all of that? _He never came!_ ”

       “It survived because I never _wanted_ him to come.” I swallowed hard, emotion crowding my throat. “I never once begged for him to rescue me. I never wanted him within a hundred feet of that cellar because I hoped to God that he would never experience the terror that I felt, or the horror of feeling someone peel your skin off your bones while they _laughed_. He’s not strong like you, Dean. I’ve always been the strong one, the protector – I never wanted him to know that monsters lurked in the shadows or that things tried to follow us home at night when we were kids. I took care of those things so that he would never _have_ to know.”

       Dean’s eyes were pained. “But who took care of you? Hunting those things, hell, just _knowing_ about them … it starts feeling so heavy. Every day you wake up knowing that you’re responsible for others, that if you don’t protect them then no one else will. Who helps you shoulder that? Who took care of _you_ , Alex?”

       I lifted a shoulder and let it drop, his words resonating inside me so powerfully that I felt connected to his soul, this wounded green eyed hunter. “You and Sam. _You_ were there when I needed you.”

       He reached out and wrapped me in his arms, pressing a hard kiss to my forehead. He snugged me in tight against his body and I was surrounded by him, his heat seeping into my pores like sunlight. I couldn’t stop myself from tucking my hands beneath his outer layer of flannel and pulling him in even closer, resting my head against his chest. “Thank you,” I whispered against his shirt, wishing my words could be pressed directly against his skin. “Thank you for coming. Thank you for saving me.”

       He rumbled something but I couldn’t distinguish the words, just felt the reverberations in his chest against my ear. We stayed like that for a long moment before he eventually released me, pressing another quick kiss against my hairline. “So.” His mouth quirked in a forced grin as he stepped back. I immediately felt the loss of his warmth. “We’ve established Grady is nothing but dead weight who doesn’t deserve to know you let alone deserve your loyalty. I think we’ve made some progress.”  

       I pushed farther away from him in disgust. “You sure know how to ruin the moment, Winchester.”

       “Were we having a moment?” He raised his eyebrows in feigned surprise. “Well then, come back here.” His expression dropped into a suggestive grin so fake it pissed me off.

       “Damn it, Dean. Why do you have to be such a jackass?” I pushed past him to get to the door and this time he let me.

       “Yeah, like I haven’t heard that before. You need to work on your insults, princess.” He clambered into the hallway behind me.

       I spun around and gave him a little shove. “Be an ass all you want, but this bullshit about Grady stops here. He’s my family and he’s here, for however long or short that may be.”

       Dean dropped the obnoxious smirk, not bothering to hide his frustration. “What exactly are you wanting from him, Alex? He’s a selfish asshole that bails when things get tough.”

       “Damn it, Dean, stop saying shit like that--you don’t know him like I do! He’s the only person in the world that knows what my favorite color is. Who my first crush was. What my favorite food is, he--”

       “Cool whip and chocolate sauce.” Dean muttered in aggravation.

       “What?” I stared at him in surprise.

       “Cool whip and chocolate sauce. That’s your favorite thing to eat, and your favorite color is green. I can learn all those things. _Anyone_ can learn all those things. That doesn’t mean that he _knows_ you, Alex. If he did, he would never have left you behind.”

       I stared at him, all the anger just draining out of me. Damn protective Winchesters. “I’m tired of fighting with you, Dean. Please, will you just try to get to know him? At the very least just stay out of the way so I can spend time with him. _Please_ , Dean.”

       He stared at me in the dim light of the hallway, the darkness hiding everything in his expressive green eyes. Without a word he reached out and traced my jawline with just the calloused tip of his finger. I felt the drag of that rough fingertip as if it caressed every inch of my body. “Just … be careful,” he growled, his rasp equal parts fervor and frustration. “The people closest to you are the ones who can hurt you the most."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I do not own Supernatural but sure do love borrowing the beloved characters and playing in their world for a short while.*


	18. "You'd Think She'd Learn"

       We came around the corner to find Sam and Grady sprawled on the couch talking easily and Bobby on his cell phone, a furrow pinching his brow.

       “Well, isn’t this cozy,” Dean grumbled, shooting a look at Sam.

       “He’s clear, Dean. The text came through from an unknown number and if you try and call it back it scrambles. Jody called and Bobby has her running a background check just to be sure, but everything checks out so far.”

        I glanced at Grady and he just rolled his eyes and shrugged. My breath came a little easier when I saw how easily he was taking this all in stride.

        “When you call it back it scrambles?” Dean raised a skeptical brow at Grady. “And that didn’t seem strange to you?”

        "Should it? It’s Sioux Falls, South Dakota.” He shrugged. “I just figured it was bad cell service.”

        Dean grunted, settling in to one of the chairs by Bobby’s desk. Sam sprawling meant that he took up three quarters of the couch and Grady occupied the rest. Dean’s uneasiness pressed against me as I passed the chair beside him in favor of settling on the floor next to the boys. Grady reached over to ruffle my hair playfully, and I couldn't stop my reflexive recoil from the unexpected contact. _It’s just Grady._ Thankfully he didn't seem to notice and I forced myself to lean against his leg and calm the tension that arose instinctively from the physical connection. Shit but it was going to be hard to hide things from him. Sam and Dean knew to expect the involuntary flinches and understood the darkness that dreams held, the drive to keep yourself occupied. But I refused to let fear have a foothold in my relationship with Grady. He was protected from all this, and I was going to keep him that way. _This is normal. I’ve sat at Grady’s feet a thousand times. His closeness is_ not _going to make me afraid._ _This is normal. I’ve sat at Grady’s feet a thousand times. I will_ not _let fear take this away._

       With a smile, Grady ruffled his hand through my hair again, slowly, and I forced myself to relax one muscle at a time into the touch. “I’m surprised you let the blue grow out. I haven’t seen your natural hair color in ages.”

       “Blue?” Sam echoed, startled.

       “She had it a deep blue; always looked black until the light hit it.” Grady gave it a soft tug that reminded me of Dean’s hands buried in it this morning, pulling me in for a kiss. My gaze darted to Dean’s annoyed expression, and I lifted an eyebrow at him, warning him not to be an ass. Grady flicked my earlobe. “Usually something you never noticed until she was walking away or running her hands through it. The complete opposite of the month of the fluorescent aquamarine. Now _that_ was a hair color to remember.”

       Warmth rolled through me. “Don’t make it sound like I lost my mind. You dared me—”

       “Lies! You kept complaining that the coffee shop guy wouldn’t notice you and I said that maybe if your hair was teal that he would notice _then_ …”

       “—And you bought me a box of hair color and told me I had to put up or shut up. So I dyed it.” I couldn’t hold back a grimace. “I was fourteen. The poor kid told me he would take out a restraining order for attempted blinding if I showed up again. That fiasco was all on you, Grady.”

       Sam eyes lit up in surprise as I laughed. “I still can’t get over the fact your hair used to be _blue_.”

       I shrugged, tugging on a snarled curl. “Don’t worry - I don’t think I’ll ever go back to it.”

       “You should,” Grady urged, running his hands through it again and I tamped down an irrational irritation. “It would make those scars look mysterious.”

       I shifted uncomfortably, tugging my sleeves down over my wrists. “Blue doesn’t fit me anymore. Besides, I don’t think I need to worry about being mysterious.”

       He nudged my leg with his boot. “True. You’ve always had that ‘I’m a secret badass’ vibe that I could never muster.”

       I shrugged nonchalantly, folding my legs up in front of me in a more comfortable position, suddenly noticing scars crisscrossing the back of both my hands. I stared at them a moment, puzzled, trying to recall what they came from. Or rather, who.

       “Damn straight she’s a badass.” Sam’s declaration caused my attention to pull back to the conversation. “She broke my nose the first time we met.”

       Grady shot me a look. “Really?”

       A flush crept up my face. “I healed it a few hours later. It wasn’t a big deal.”

       He stilled. “You still doing that? Healing people?”

       “Yes,” I said softly, focusing on the patterns the faint scars made. I knew that tone and something inside me tightened up.

       His stare grew heavier with each passing second. “So you’re still helping people by hurting yourself?”

       I sighed, every inch of this argument threadbare and tired. “Can we not talk about it, please?”

       He shifted away from me on the couch and withdrew his hand from my hair. I couldn’t help but be relieved. “I don’t understand you.”

       “I don’t want to argue, Grady. I only get you for a little while as it is.” _This is probably the last time we’ll ever be together—don’t ruin it._

       “It’s hurting you. You’d think after so many times you would learn to avoid the pain.” He cast a quick glance around the room and seemed to notice that both Sam and Dean had tensed. “What, you guys think she _should_ do it? It’s not natural. Who knows what it’s doing to her insides.”

       “Look, let’s not—” I tried to halt the building confrontation.

       “'It’s not natural?’” Dean echoed, his eyes beginning to harden. “That’s what has you concerned?”

       “Well, yeah. After the first few times she healed me I told her—”

       “First _few_?” Dean’s eyes flashed menacingly as he slowly got to his feet.

       “Let’s just drop it—”

       Grady popped to his feet. “It’s handy and all, don’t get me wrong, but seriously. Who _chooses_ to hurt themselves? You’d think she’d learn.”

       “You selfish son of a bitch,” Dean snapped.

       Grady jutted his chin out mulishly, squaring his shoulders. “Look, just calm down. I’m not going to fight you over something I know she won’t listen to anyway. She’s going to do whatever the heck she wants. Always has. Just because I’m the only family she’s got doesn’t mean she takes my advice.”

 _Shit._ If there was one subject that should never come up between them, it was family. I got to my feet, ready to be a physical buffer between them. At my move, Sam lurched to his feet as well, giving me a warning look to stay out of their way.

       “You don’t know shit about family!” Dean snarled.

       “Oh, calm down.” Grady snapped. He suddenly turned a full force glare on me. “Wait a minute--is that how you got all those scars, Aly? Being a glutton for punishment?”

       He never saw Dean’s fist coming.

  

       Grady hit the couch hard, the sound of his head knocking into the window frame above it a loud thump in the sudden silence. Bobby popped his head around the corner and glared at the boys, phone pressed to his ear. “Jody, I’m going to have to call you back. We’ll be there as soon as we can pull the gear together.” He slammed the flip phone closed and shoved it in his pocket. “What in the sam hell is going on out here?” His gaze darted to where Grady was laid out cold on the couch.

       “Damn it, Dean!" I growled, rushing to Grady to make sure he wasn’t bleeding. "Two minutes! You couldn’t play nice for two minutes?!”

       “Come on, Alex, Grady was being an ass,” Sam interjected.

       My glare swung to him, gently laying Grady’s head against the pillows. “Stay out of this, Sam.”

       “He deserved it?” Bobby directed the question to both boys.

       I threw up my hands in frustration.

       “Definitely,” Sam confirmed.

       “The dirt bag is lucky I only punched him once.” Dean bit out, flexing his hand as if fighting the urge to do it again.

       Bobby shrugged. “All right then. Jody’s got a mess brewing in town and needs some help. Dean, you’re coming with me. Sam, keep an eye on the two of them.” Without another word Bobby grabbed his rifle and a duffle bag sitting beside his desk, slinging it over his shoulder.

       I stared at him in disbelief. “What the fuck, Bobby! Dean knocked him out!”

       Bobby gave me a hard look over his shoulder. “Background check came back clean but I don’t trust that boy farther than I can throw him. His story doesn’t ring true. He can stay here for a few days but there are some rules. Number one? You’re sleeping in the basement. No arguments.”

       “Like hell I am!”

       “Where was this feistiness when he was being a dick?” Dean demanded. “You just sat there and tried to play peacemaker!”

       Bobby ignored Dean’s outburst. “Grady’s bunking upstairs near the boys. If he twitches a muscle, we’ll know long before he gets to you.”

       “He’s not going to hurt me! Why do you all think he’s some horrible monster in disguise?!” I couldn’t decide whose neck I wanted to wring first.

       “Rule Number Two: you don’t go anywhere alone with him, period. Sam’s here and I’ll have his head if anything happens to you.” Bobby sent Sam a meaningful look and Sam nodded in acceptance.

       I growled in frustration. “Just take Sam with you. I can handle myself.”

       Bobby adjusted the bag on his shoulder, his tone gruff. “I don’t doubt it. But you’re important to my boys and that means you’re my number one priority right now. This fracas in town has to do with you, too, or I wouldn’t be leaving.”

       Cold dread slithered down my spine. “Demons?”

       Bobby squinted at me seriously. “Don’t you worry about it--Dean and I will handle it.”

       “But there are innocent people in town, Bobby, I should—”

       He reached out and tapped my chin. “You have plenty enough on your plate to worry about. I know Cas rattled you last night, but I want you to know we aren’t giving up. There’s a way through this and we’re going to find it. But what I need from you right now is for you to sit tight. I know the importance of family even if they’re scum of the earth, that’s the only reason I’m leaving that punk here.” He turned to Sam. "I heard what Cas said about her next wave, so just do whatever you can to keep her comfortable. We’ll be back as soon as we get things cleaned up for Jody.”

       “Will do. Let me know if there’s anything you need from this end,” Sam straightened, casting a look at the still unconscious Grady before firming his jaw in resolve. “I’ll handle things here.”

       “You better,” Dean growled, frustration etching lines near his eyes. “And don’t let the dickwad bully her, Sam. Don’t roll your damn eyes at me, Alex – you and I are having words later about why you let him run his mouth like he was. If you had shown him even a quarter of the sass you do me, you would’ve set him back on his bony ass within two feet of that front door."

       “He wasn’t bullying me, Dean. We’ve had that same argument a thousand times.” I sighed, worry for them already wriggling its way under my skin. “You two need to be careful, don’t worry about anything here. If either of you get hurt because you’re distracted, I’ll kick your asses myself.” I gave them both a stern look and tried to wrestle down my uneasiness. I hated the fact that they were going off to fight my battles and I was pinned down here, but Bobby was right. I would only be a distraction to them both.

       “We’ll be back soon, darlin’, don’t you worry.” Bobby shot me a gruff smile as Dean grabbed his gear and then they were both out the door.

       Just as heat began to prickle at the base of my spine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I do not own Supernatural but sure do love borrowing the beloved characters and playing in their world for a short while.*


	19. Truce

       Grady was pissed.

       “So, what, he punches me out and then you just let him leave?” Grady held a bag of frozen peas to the side of his face.

       “He and Bobby needed—”

       “—To help their friend, yeah, you told me. But seriously, Aly? I’ve put up with a lot since I got here. I just wanted to stop by and see you on my way home--I was not planning on getting into all …” He gestured to his face, flicking a quick glance at Sam leaning warily in the doorway keeping watch, “…this.”  
  
       I stifled a growl of frustration, wishing I had punched Dean when I had the chance. “I know. I’m sorry. I’ll talk to Dean about it when he gets back—”

       Grady fidgeted with the bag of peas, eyes narrowing. “What’s with the two of you, anyway?”

       I stilled under his scrutiny. “What do you mean?”

       “I mean the two of you are weird together. I’ve never seen you so … aware of someone.”

       I grabbed another bag of peas out of the freezer and wrapped it in a towel, switching it out for the one against his face without a word. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

       “And that! Right there! I _know_ you’re lying to me. But I can’t read you anymore. It’s like you’re guarded with me now." He grabbed my wrist, forcing my eyes to his. “ I don’t like it.”

       I tugged out of his weak grasp. “I’m guarded with everyone, now.”

       “Everyone but Dean,” Grady retorted.

       “With  _everyone_ , Grady.” I tried to keep an even tone. “A lot happened. You can’t expect me to be the same person I was then.”

       “Oh trust me, I know you’re different. Everything about you is different. You swear like a sailor. You won’t tell me about anything going on in your life. You have this weird connection with a family you’ve only known a month. Your hair, your posture, all of those scars--heck, I could've passed you on the street a thousand times and I don't think I would've recognized you.” He reached out to touch my face and I balked before I could stop myself. “And _that_. You’ve never pulled away from me before, Aly.” Frustration hardened his eyes. "What happened to you those three months?”

       “I—” I backed up, scrambling to find my equilibrium. The one person who knew me best in the world - wouldn't have known me passing on the street? I remembered that sick feeling looking in the mirror right after Sam and Dean had rescued me and my gut twisted. The bastards had taken so fucking much from me in that cellar.

       He followed my retreat, keeping himself in my personal space as he tossed the bag of peas to the table with his eyes snapping. “Stop it. Stop whatever you're going to say because I know it's a lie and I’m about done. I’m here for you, Aly, I came here to see _you._ If all you’re going to do is shut me out then I might as well leave now.”

       “Works for me,” Sam muttered from the doorway.

       I shot him a look over my shoulder before facing Grady’s ire. “I’m not trying to shut you out. I want you to be here. I—”

       “Prove it.”

       “What?”

       “You heard me. Prove it. I deserve to know _something_ about what happened or how you fell in with this bizarre family. You want to tiptoe around the elephant in the room? Fine. But I’ve had it with you lying to my face.”

       Anxiety crawled up my spine. He knew me. He did. I just had to show him that I trusted him, that our friendship was still just as strong as before. That parts of  _me_  were still somewhere inside this scarred shell. “Fine, Grady. Fine.”

       He let out an angry breath, brushing his knuckles across his forehead. “It shouldn’t be this hard to talk to me, Aly. I’ve always been there for you. Through thick and thin, poor and poorer. We’ve weathered a lot together and I don’t like feeling like you trust them more than you trust me.” He jerked his chin at Sam who watched us expressionlessly.

       "You're right. I'm sorry." I took a deep bracing breath, grabbing a hold of the chair next me to give my hands something to do. “The Winchesters ... didn’t just help me out, like I said before,” I said softly, knuckles whitening. “They saved my life.”

       “From the kidnappers?” Doubt wrinkled his brow. “Why did they take you at all?”

       Damn this whole can of worms. I wrestled with an answer and Sam stayed silent. “…Someone found out that I can heal people. They wanted me to heal some … bad men and I wouldn’t do it.”

       Grady’s expression froze. “They took you … because you can heal people.”

       “Yes.”

       “And they… gave you all those scars?” He suddenly paled.

       I swallowed hard, wishing I could protect him from all this. “Yes.”

       “I don’t understand. Why would they do that?”

       “Because they’re sick bastards.” Sam finally spoke up, his jaw tight.

       Grady stepped back and started to pace the room. “So they kept hurting you because you wouldn’t heal them.” 

       I nodded, nerves tightening with the look in his eye.

       “And you did that for more than a hundred days in a row.”

       I just nodded again.

       Anger tightened his jaw, and his eyes hardened. “I don’t understand you.”

       I stiffened, nervousness turning to nausea. “What?”

       “They were hurting you. You were down there for more than a hundred days, and they _kept_ hurting you. They even jacked your face up. Why wouldn’t you just heal them?” His expression hardened. “You should’ve healed them.”

       I stared at him in astonishment, dread making a sick path through my gut. “I … I—”

       Sam straightened to his full height, eyes darkening. “Grady, you need to rethink where you’re heading with this.”

       Grady barely spared him a glance, his full attention on me, hard eyes pinning me to the wall. “For all the times you did it out of some random kindness in your heart with no personal benefit, why the heck wouldn’t you do it when your life was on the line?”

        “They would've hurt more people - it would've been wrong,” I managed faintly, Sam’s fury pressing strongly at my back.

        “It was wrong to protect yourself? Wrong to heal people who you were _torturing_ you? What would you have done if they hadn’t come to save you? What?”

        “Nothing," I choked, stunned at the strength of his anger. "I still wouldn’t have healed them.”

        “Until they _killed_ you?!” Grady ranted, throwing his hands in the air. "That goes way beyond being a glutton for punishment--are you addicted to the pain? Is that what this is really about, Aly? Do you _like_  when people hurt you?"

        “Damn it, that’s enough!” Sam shoved Grady backward, hard enough he dropped back several steps. “Alex, I’m not going to sit here and listen to this shit. He’s done here—” Sam grabbed a hold of Grady’s shoulder, forcing him across the room to the doorway. Grady looked like a ragdoll in his hands.

        “No, Sam, stop!” I spun to face him, clenching my shaking hands. “I said stop, Sam!”

        Sam turned flashing hazel eyes on me.

        “He doesn't understand, Sam. He never will. Trying to explain it is just a waste of time - it's all over and done with. Please, I just want to spend some more time with him. We can have a difference of opinion.” _I won’t get another chance_.

        Grady tried to shake off Sam’s grip but Sam just tightened his hold. “This isn't just a 'difference of opinion', Alex. He's a spineless coward that wouldn't have lasted more than two minutes down there. He doesn’t have a damn clue what you went through and for him to stand here and preach that you made the wrong decision—” Sam gave him a hard shake and I heard Grady’s teeth rattle. “This little shit doesn’t deserve your loyalty.”

        “Don’t go siding with Dean.” I growled. “Deserving has nothing to do with this.”

        Sam shot me a frustrated glance. “Is that what Dean took you outside to talk about? Good. You need to hear it. You deserve more than this.”

        "You want to call me a little shit?!” Grady sputtered. “You Winchesters sure have big enough egos, don’t you? Think you can just go around punching people and hauling them around. Calling them cowards. Where I come from that’s called _assault_.”

        “You want to call this in as assault?” Sam glared, shaking him again. “You go right ahead. You’ll reach a direct line to Sheriff Jody Mills – the same Jody Mills that Bobby and Dean are out helping right now. You see how far that assault charge gets you.”

        Sam finally let him go with a shove and Grady shook out his shirt with a look of haughty offense. “You sure know how to pick your friends, Aly.”

        I clenched my jaw in warning. “He’s just trying to protect me, Grady.”

        “Sure, seems like they’ve done a bang up job of protecting you so far." He scoffed. "Seems to me that I’m the only one here telling you it’s _not_ ok to keep hurting yourself, that you did the _wrong_ thing nearly killing yourself. Aly, you have to recognize that I’m the only one really looking out for you.”

        Sam stared at me, muscle ticking in his jaw. “I’m not going to listen to this, Alex. You either shut him up or he leaves.”

        “Grady…” I sighed, running a hand over my face. I was so fucking exhausted. 

        Grady folded his lanky arms across his chest, sulkiness in every line of his posture. “Look. You don’t want me looking out for you? Fine. That’s your call. I’m just pointing out your heroes may not be doing such a bang up job.”

        I looked at him, watching the haughty lift of his chin, the stubborn pinch to his mouth. My love for him suddenly felt a bit tarnished, as if the reality of him was not quite matching up to my memory, but the feeling was quickly squashed by guilt. He _was_ just trying to protect me too, in his own way. 

       He shifted under my scrutiny for a long uncomfortable moment before his shoulders softened. “Fine. I’m sorry, Aly, is that what you want to hear? I didn’t mean to upset you. I care about you and want what’s best for you. I just hate seeing you get hurt.”

       I ignored Sam’s disbelieving grunt and sought the sincerity in Grady’s eyes. “I know. It’s been a long day for all of us. Why don’t we just sit down and watch a movie… will that keep you satisfied, Sam? No talking, no arguing, and we can all just be together.”

       “As long as he keeps his mouth shut, I’m fine.”

       “Back at you, Godzilla,” Grady retorted.

       The shaky truce held longer than I expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I do not own Supernatural but sure do love borrowing the beloved characters and playing in their world for a short while.*


	20. One Condition

       My skin was crawling. Heat prickled up and down my back, leaving itchy sweat trickling down my sides. I was tucked into the arm of the couch, Grady to my right and Sam across the room. We were halfway through a second movie and the symptoms were getting harder to hide. The vertigo stage had come and gone an hour ago with no one the wiser, but the muscle twitches were getting stronger and my hands were beginning to shake. The tension in the air kept cycling through me and feeding the energy building beneath my skin. I could feel Sam’s frustration and Grady … well, he changed moods so fast I could hardly get a read on him. His strongest emotion was a healthy underlying fear that made my chest ache, knowing I had put it there just by telling him what had happened. Hell, I hadn’t even told him _half_ of what had happened and he was still freaked out.

       I folded my legs up in front of me and tucked my hands between my thighs, stilling their tremors.

       Sam got to his feet and stretched restlessly, his fingers touching the ceiling. “Anybody need a drink?”

       Grady shook his head negatively, engrossed in the fight scene playing.

       “Alex? Beer?”

       I struggled to turn my attention outward, focusing on him blearily. “What?”

       “You thirsty?”

       I swallowed hard, noticing that my throat was achingly dry. “Sure.”

       He stared at me a long moment. “You ok?”

       I tried to smile reassuringly. “’Course.”

       His concern skyrocketed and he gritted his teeth as he ambled over to me, his face a careful mix of bland boredom. “I can never remember what beer you like. Why don’t you come with me?”

       The pretense was weak at best but Grady barely spared us a glance before his attention went back to the TV.

       “Fine. I’m coming.” Grumbling beneath my breath, I stiffly managed to get to my feet, knowing Sam wouldn’t let it go unless I convinced him everything was fine. Gritting my teeth, I tentatively made my way into the kitchen, ignoring the starbursts of pain flaring in my back.

       He backed up a step to keep me in front of him as I slowly made my way to the table. “Why the hell didn’t you say anything?” He ground out softly.

       “There’s nothing you can do, Sam, and I don’t want Grady to know.” I gripped onto the edge of the table, using it to brace myself as heat flared beneath every inch of my skin.

       “How long has it been going on?” He ran a hand through his hair.

       I blew out a tense breath before forcing myself to straighten. “Started when Bobby and Dean left.”

       “Damn it! I thought Cas said the cramping muscles and headaches were gone, you were only dealing with the empathy thing?”

       “It hasn’t been like this for weeks.” An arcing snap of agony whipped across my middle and I struggled to keep from doubling over. “Cas said it would be rough … maybe … this is what he meant.”

       “So the empathy thing is still happening too?” His concern ratcheted up even higher.

       “Yes, Sam, so could you tone it down some? I’m not … dying.” I squeezed my eyes shut and my knuckles went white against the table. “Fuck. This sucks. Get me a damn beer, Sam.”

       A twitch of amusement took the edge off his scowl as he crossed to the fridge to pull out a six pack.

       “What?” I gave up and sank into a chair, knees trembling. Every inch of me was burning, and sweat dampened my hairline. I bent across the table to pull a beer from the case, gritting my teeth against the flare in my muscles. I popped the lid off against the tabletop and chugged half of it, praying it would take the edge off.

       “It’s nice to see some spark back in you—I don’t like who you pretend to be around Grady,” Sam said pointedly, crossing his arms on his chest. Concern darkened his eyes as he watched me down the rest of the bottle without pause.

       “Can we _please_ stop arguing about Grady? I’m sick of hearing about how much you hate him. I get it already.”

       “No, we are going to keep arguing about it until you admit that he’s a jerk and you’re better off without him. You can’t tell me that you don’t change around him.”

       “I _don’t_ , Sam.” I hissed, masking a wince by frowning at him.

       “Come on, you seriously want me to believe that the girl who stole Dean’s gun and then told him to take a hike is the _same_ girl who rolled over and played dead when a jackass accused her of _wanting_ to be tortured?” He scoffed, his jaw ticking. “I don’t know if you think you’re trying to protect him or you just don’t think he can handle the real you, but you need to get over it. If he’s as great as you say he is, he should be able to handle the truth.”

       I just glared at him, trying to ignore the fatiguing wave of heat wrapping around my spine.

       “What,” Sam continued, casting a quick glance through the doorway to where Grady was stretched out on the couch, eyes beginning to droop, “are you afraid that if you tell him the truth he’ll cut and run? Because I have to be honest, you’re probably right. He’s a coward, Alex.”

       “Shut up, Sam,” I gritted out.

       “No, seriously. I’m starting to get pissed. What do you think is accomplished by lying to him? Does it give you peace of mind to know the one person you care about can’t be counted on when things get hard? Hell, you were _kidnapped_ and you didn’t even want him to know! What sort of family is that?!”

       I shoved to my feet, anger pounding in my veins. “Damn it, Sam, shut the hell up--!” I tried to lunge toward him but a sudden rolling sensation spread through every inch of my body and I stumbled. It felt as if my muscles were shaking themselves awake from slumber. I stopped breathing, realizing I couldn’t control a single one. Sensation skittered along my spine, sliding along just beneath the skin before settling in the tendons of my neck and shoulders. It spun from a warm buzz to a fiery tension that tightened and convulsed, dropping my knees out from under me and slamming my head into the edge of the table. I panted, trying to gather my limbs beneath me and forcing down the anxiety trying to crawl into my throat. It was just spasming muscles. Nothing to be afraid of. I had weathered my fair share on my own – no reason to be nervous.

       Sam was there suddenly, hauling me back to my feet and settling me back on the chair. His mouth was tight as he grabbed a dish towel and pressed it against my face, checking for blood and absorbing the sweat beginning to run down my temples. “Shit. Are you all right? That was a bad one.” His careful grasp supporting my head transmitted his anxiety clear as a bell and I fought to pull away from it.

       “Damn it, Sam, I’m not dying! Get a hold of yourself!” I shoved the towel away and tried to get to my feet. I stumbled a few drunken steps before pain eclipsed all thought and a whimper tore through my gritted teeth.

       “Come on--!” He grabbed me around the waist and held me steady. “Would you just sit down?!” The weight of his anxiety felt like it was burrowing beneath my straining muscles and I struggled to block it out. He had a firm grip on my waist and my shirt had ridden up, so his fingertips were just barely brushing the strip of skin above my jeans. The direct contact sent his stress directly into my bloodstream like a shot of adrenaline. The spike of emotion sent tension singing through my veins, and it gained strength and started to blow through my tentative barriers like a freight train. It spasmed through my back muscles, drawing me into an excruciating arch, my head snapping back into Sam’s jaw. I stifled a scream, my teeth clenched against any sound as the power pounded at my temples. It continued to build strength raggedly until it hit a peak and exploded, throwing me into a seizure and showering my entire body in heated starbursts of pain. I felt like my muscles were shredding from the inside out.

“Alex? Alex!” Sam fumbled to catch me before I hit the floor as my entire body started convulsing.

       I choked, fumbling to turn away from him as my stomach heaved and brought up a wave of blood and black bile. Sam tried to pick me up but I shoved him away from the mess as another heave wrecked me, pulling every muscle tight.

       “Easy, Alex, easy!” Sam anxiously gathered my hair back from my face, wrapping a hand in it carefully to keep it anchored out of my face.

       Everything seized in my body as wave after wave of noxious liquid escaped me. I gripped Sam’s knee in an effort to reassure him. He had one hand knotted in my hair to keep it off my face and the other was rubbing frantic circles on my back.

       “’m all right—” My muscles seized again and more blood was dragged forth from inside me. Long, excruciating moments passed before it finally ended and left me panting for breath, my head rolling limply as exhaustion weighed me down. Sam’s careful hold was the only thing keeping me from sagging to the floor. Sam cautiously wrapped an arm around my waist and lifted me away from the mess, curling me into his chest. I was enveloped in his stress – worry, fear, helplessness and panic coiling tighter and tighter inside and I just lay there, unable to find the strength to pull away.

       “I’m … I’m ok—” I managed to pat his chest tiredly. “I’m ok…”

       “Damn it—this is not ok!” Sam roared, “Cas!”

       Fuck, but everything hurt. I forced my eyes open to stare at my fingers on his chest. I had left a bloody handprint on his shirt. I looked down to find blood everywhere – it covered my hands and legs, and I could even feel it still trickling from my eyes and nose. A soft flutter whispered by and Cas appeared, bringing with him a flood of murmuring voices. When he had come for me in my cabin, I had only heard indistinct sounds. This time I could just barely catch snippets of words, and the clamor pounded in my head.

       Sam dropped his head to touch mine for a brief second before pressing a hard kiss on my hairline. “Thank God you’re here, Cas, you’ve got to fix this.”

       “Sam, I—”

       Grady suddenly appeared in the doorway and his eyes went round as saucers, his hair tousled from sleep. “What the --?!”

       “Shut up and stay out of the way,” Sam snapped, getting his legs beneath him. He gathered me in his arms and stretched to his full height. “Cas, she’s vomiting blood – something’s really wrong.”

       Cas took a step back, confusion apparent as he stared at Grady. “Sam, you know I cannot fix this. Why is he still here?”

       Sam ignored my weak struggle to get out of his embrace, his emotions beating in my head like an anvil. “This isn’t like it was before, Cas, something is really wrong!”

       I struggled harder in Sam’s grip, trying anything to break our physical contact. “Let me go--”

       “No, Alex! Damn it, Cas, _fix this! Now!_ ”

       “I _can’t_!” Frustration lit the angel’s eyes. “I told you when I brought her back last night that there are no solutions. She will continue to worsen unless she completes the transition but doing so is just as dangerous. There is nothing I can do to prevent this from taking its course, Sam. Trust me, I tried everything in my power to alter her course but all of my findings led me to believe that the coming events cannot be changed. However, I was also led to believe that _he_ ,” Cas pointed at a pale and weaving Grady still standing in the doorway, “would not be a factor! You and Dean were supposed to handle him! Why is he still here, Sam?!”

       “He’s my family, Cas,” I gritted out. “He stays.”

       Grady stepped in the kitchen, shock draining his features of color. He gaped at the bloody mess on the floor before dragging his gaze to the bloody tears still escaping my eyes. He paled even further. “…Aly? What’s going on?”     

       “His presence could change everything, Sam,” Cas warned, his voice dropping to a gravelly pitch as a hum of power began to sing in the air, eclipsing the sound of the prayers. Without another word he stepped forward and pressed two fingers to Grady’s forehead. Grady’s eyes rolled back and he crumpled to the ground.

       “No, Cas!” My head spun, trying to focus despite Cas’s power elevating the heat inside me. The tension in the room escalated. “What did you do to him?!”

       “You have to trust me, Alexis,” Cas said firmly. “I don’t know what part he will play in this, but I do not want him near you. Your wave of illness is not nearly over yet and you will need all of your strength.”

       “What do you mean it’s not over?” Sam demanded. “She can’t handle another round of that, Cas!”

       Helplessness filled the room, pounding my temples and stirring the nausea in my stomach sluggishly. “Will you both please calm down so I can think?!”

       The emotion in the room dampened minutely and Sam set me down on the table, finally realizing I had been struggling to break our physical contact. “Sorry,” he breathed distractedly, eyes worried as he brushed a hand down my face.

       The distance from Sam helped me catch my breath and I grabbed hold of Cas’s lapel, smearing bloody fingerprints on the crisp cream material. “Damn it, Cas, what did you do to Grady?”

       He stood still, seeming to sense that it comforted me to have the illusion of control. “He is merely sleeping. He is not supposed to be here, Alexis, and I am uneasy as to what his presence indicates.”

       “What do you mean, uneasy? I thought you could see what’s coming.” I tightened my grip, holding my breath through a cramp dragging along my ribs.

       Cas suddenly avoided my gaze. “I … was concerned with your situation. I found a way to see what was coming so that we could be better prepared. However, the … being … that helped me conjure the future is no longer available.”

       Sam stiffened. “What was it, Cas? What did you do?”

       “It does not matter, Sam, it was not a creature you are aware of. It was also not one I ever care to contact again even if they had not been banished to Purgatory. Unfortunately, the information that I was able to glean told that me that Grady would only bring darkness into Alex’s life.” He finally raised his bright blue eyes back to mine. “Earlier, I tried to get you to go somewhere safe, away from him. I was trying to keep you away from more darkness.”

       I snorted. “Thank you for trying to protect me, Cas, even though the information you got was wrong.” I released the death grip I had on his jacket and gave it a soft pat, knowing full well the small moment of compassion did not eclipse the fact he had given up on me making it through this.

       “Alex—” Sam’s frustration mounted. “You’re seriously going to just disregard everything negative about him, aren’t you?”

       “Grady’s never given me a reason to doubt him, Sam.” I wrapped my fingers around the edge of the table, breath tightening against a spasm in my lower back.

       Sam just shook his head at me angrily.

       My breath started to rattle in my chest, and Cas’s eyebrows lowered. “Regardless of whether it was wrong or right, you’re running out of time before the symptoms worsen. You need to be somewhere safe with as few distractions as possible, gathering your strength while you can. Sam, stay with Grady--”

       “Like hell.” I used the table to force myself to my feet, Sam scrambling to be ready to catch me. I locked my jaw against the heat curling inside, but it spun faster and faster until I started to feel dizzy. “I’m not leaving the two of them alone.”

       “This isn’t over yet, Alex—” Cas warned.

       I glared at them both. “Sam will kick him out, or Dean will come back and kill him for some stupid comment. No way, Cas.”

       Cas straightened and suddenly seemed to glow a bit, the low hum of his power coming back full force and undermining the strength I had managed to gather. “You need to be in the panic room, Alex. You cannot handle another wave while trying to block out other’s emotions. You’ll tear yourself apart.”

       My stomach started to cramp and the taste of pennies filled my mouth, Cas’s power sinking into me and accelerating the heat. “This won’t kill me, Castiel, I’m too damn stubborn.” I winced, wiping away the blood beginning to trickle from my eyes. “You said this morning that I would need Sam and Dean after this, which means you know I live through at least this wave. So let’s quit the scare tactics and just let me get through it.” I coughed roughly, spitting phlegm and bile to the side and feeling my stomach clench in warning.

       “If I promise not to touch a hair on Grady’s head, will you go down there?” Sam pleaded helplessly. “I would feel a hell of a lot better if Cas was with you. Maybe he can do something, ease the pain somehow.”

       I hesitated, but the longer I debated the weaker I felt and the louder Cas’s prayers and Sam’s emotions came through. “I’ll do it on one condition.” I folded my arms across my chest to hide the growing tremors. “We are _done_ fighting about Grady.”

       “Fine,” Sam quickly agreed. “Just … go with him. And Cas? You yell if you need _anything_.”

       With a quick nod, Cas stepped back to let me lead the way to the basement.

 

       The bunker was cold. A small fan whirled in slow circles high in the ceiling above me, dusty light trickling through the pentagram grate that covered it. They had brought me in a bed, a bucket, a basin and some towels. The rest of the round room was empty. It was solid iron, every inch of the walls coated in salt and covered in sigils. Cas assured me repeatedly that nothing could get in, including himself due to the warding. I was safe in here and he was standing guard just outside the door. As soon as it had clanged shut behind him I was enveloped in blessed silence. No prayers, no emotions, no stress… just silence. Even in my cabin in the woods there had been creaking trees, clicking crickets and chittering birds between the monsters attacking. Things had never been so still around me.

       But here in the silence there was no peace. The silence only exaggerated my movements, the seizures drawing out stifled screams from me that I didn’t recognize. I didn’t have to be strong for Grady, didn’t have to be tough under Sam and Dean’s scrutiny. Cas left me to the silence and it was both a freedom to vocally express the pain and a curse to have to hear the sounds that only Krieger had been able to pull out of me in that cellar. The pain was excruciating, my muscles feeling like they were being torn from my bones. I had vomited so much blood that I had filled the bucket hours ago and the towel was a sopping mess. On and on it had gone, until I couldn’t think, couldn’t process, could barely open my eyes. As if it sensed my surrender, the wave finally started easing to its conclusion.

       And that was when the door slid open to reveal one of my biggest nightmares.

       Jeremiah Stokes in the flesh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I do not own Supernatural but sure do love borrowing the beloved characters and playing in their world for a short while.*


	21. Panic Room

       I surfaced painfully, scrambling to take in my surroundings. Stokes was here, in this room, I could feel his darkness. Metal bit into my wrists and ankles and I struggled for breath around a gag as I forced my gritty eyelids open. It was a small comfort to spot the pentagram grate above me and realize that I was still in the panic room, but scuffling from the shadows made my heart begin to pound. Adrenaline spiked in my veins and I jerked on my cuffs, panic drowning out all rational thought as the sounds of Stokes’ presence grew louder.

       “Now, there’s my girl.” Stokes’ satisfaction oozed from the shadows. “I’ve missed those pretty green eyes.”

       I thrashed on the bed, pulling against my restraints as my stomach started to roll. _Not again, oh God, not again…_

       “We have something to finish, you and I,” Stokes murmured, finally stepping out of the shadows. He watched me closely, his irises now an eerie milky white that showed no signs of the damage I had done. “Surprised to see me? Or surprised that I can see _you_? There are perks to serving an overlord, you know. They like to keep their warriors in good working order.” He slowly circled me, trailing his fingers along the metal bedframe. His expression sharpened. “Not that your Winchesters left much of me to be salvaged. I still owe your Dean a number of scars in return.”

       _Dean._ I pressed my eyes closed and sucked in a deep breath, trying to still the thunderous beating of my heart. Dean, Bobby, Sam--I wasn’t on my own this time. _One of you better hurry the hell up and get me out of here--_

“Now, now,” Stokes tsked, irritation lacing his words, “don’t go taking my fun. I want you to fight. I want you _angry_. I want to see the spirit that made you such a challenge in that cellar for so long.” He pressed in close, his sour breath scalding the side of my face. “Rescue isn’t coming, darling. Your Winchesters and their little posse? None of them are coming to save you. You’re all mine, now.”

       I froze at the certainty in his voice, fear clawing away at my feeble hope.

       “Sam, Dean, Bobby, Castiel …” He sang their names cheerily. “They’ll never come to your rescue again. Bobby and Dean walked right into the welcome embrace of my best and brightest demons in the tiny town of Sioux Falls. They have been successfully captured and delivered to the Big Man himself – seems he has a few _personal_ scores to settle with them. I can’t imagine they’ll make it through that all in one piece. Dear old Cas is now inhabiting my old cell—” his voice snapped with hatred, “the _cage_ where the Winchesters tried to break me. Their attempts were nothing more than exasperating as I bided my time until my companion came for me, but every minute was worth it to watch their faces as I told them … every … tiny … detail … of your captivity. Seemed to get under Dean’s skin in particular, he seems to be quite the fan of yours.”

       Fire burned hot in my gut, evaporating the weight of my exhaustion and fear. This son of a bitch had put pity in Dean’s eyes. Fuck being afraid, I was going to burn him right back to hell.           

       He straightened, self-satisfaction clear. “They both seem to have quite the soft spot for you, something I was hoping to exploit but all my tidy planning has made that unnecessary. Everything came together beautifully, even better than I hoped. Faulkner was gracious enough to teach me some delightful angel warding sigils that let Castiel _into_ my cage but will not let him _out_ unless I desire _._  Did you know that they were keeping me right beneath your feet this whole time? Bobby has quite the set up in his basement for torture and containment. I would admire his creativity if it hadn’t proven so damn inconvenient.”

        _Shit, Cas, I’m so sorry. I’ll get you out, I swear--_

       “And I wouldn’t go getting high hopes for Samuel, either.” Glee lit Stokes’ features. “My companion should have him well in hand by now.” He strode to the door and slid open the small panel that served as a peep hole. The faint sounds of a scuffle reached me and I strained to hear more clearly. Sam would win the fight, no doubt in my mind. He would come and we could take down Stokes together—

       The sounds grew louder until I heard the basement door slam open and the clatter rumbled down the stairs, the pair still fighting. Grunts and curses abounded from two distinct voices and Sam suddenly cried out, a shocked painful cry that exploded in my mind. _Sam._ Heat bloomed in my chest, and a piercing, shredding pain that enveloped the whole left side of my chest making it hard to breathe, hard to think. Blood soaked the fabric of my shirt and I struggled against my restraints. Sam. I had to get to Sam. His emotions poured into my consciousness like acid in a wound. Anger, so much anger … but fear too. He could feel that something was seriously wrong.

       “Alex--!” Sam bellowed with as much breath as he could manage.

        _Sam!_ I screamed through the gag, jerking viciously against my restraints.

       “Ah yes, I believe we have a victor.” Stokes beamed at me and swung the door wide open. Sam was there, crumbled on the ground, his face a mess of battered bruises. Blood had soaked the whole side of his chest, and a tall lanky figure stood over him with an angel blade, blood dripping off the tip.

        Sam struggled to rise, tried to lurch toward the open doorway. “Alex, fight hard! They have Cas, they—”

        The lanky figure smashed the handle of the knife into Sam’s forehead and he dropped like a stone.

        Cas roared from deeper in the basement, a cry of frustrated anguish as he watched Sam fall.

        The tall figure wiped the bloody knife on his pant leg and strode into the panic room without backward glance. “Now that _that_ is taken care of—we have a lot to talk about, Aly.” He tipped a familiar nod at Stokes that flooded me with sick dread.

        Grady came right to my side, his lanky frame bending over me and blocking the light from the ceiling grate. His dark eyes narrowed at me, watchful. “You’ve made this whole process a lot harder on yourself than it needed to be. And you have to admit, Sam had that coming.”

        Betrayal gutted me and I pulled away from him, straining to see if Sam was still all right. The pain in my chest was only growing and I could _feel_ the fluid building in his lung. _Damn it, Sam, get up…!_

        Stokes clapped gleefully. “Aw, so sweet to see the long awaited reunion first hand. I hear that Grady played his part beautifully and managed to lull the Winchesters into nothing more than a guarded suspicion. Which is a miracle really. I didn’t think he would be able to get past the front door.”

        Grady shot Stokes an irritated glare. “I did what I had to. We have to finish this. Leaving it half done and letting it destroy her slowly was never part of the deal.” His gaze dropped back to me and he casually brushed hair out of my face. I flinched away, scrambling to understand his role in all this. He grabbed my chin, jerking me around to face him. “Don’t pull away from me again, Aly. I’ve put up with way too much nonsense from your beloved Winchesters to get any more crap from you. They’re all out of the way now so you can focus on what’s really important: embracing your full potential.”

       I pressed my eyes closed, unwilling to look into his eyes as he destroyed my faith in him.

       He sighed. “I’m trying to protect you, don’t you understand? I’ve been trying to protect you this whole time. But what did you do? Stokes explained what really happened. You fought them, fought all of them. If you had just accepted what they were trying to do for you, then none of this would’ve happened.” He gestured to the scars on my face distastefully. “They have the ability to take away the pain, to make you an even stronger healer. But you rejected it every time. Your stubbornness has done nothing but get you hurt. Stop fighting and give in, Aly. I’m not going to stand by and let you keep choosing to hurt yourself!”

       Anger started to burn deep in my gut. I spit at him, struggling to talk, pushing to communicate despite the pain in my chest.

       Grady shot a quick questioning glance at Stokes who nodded and Grady bent to untie the gag. As soon as it loosened I slammed up into his forehead, knocking him back on his ass. “Damn you, Grady, what the hell are you doing?! You’re working with _them_?”

       He stiffened furiously, shaking his head to clear the pain. “I’m protecting you from yourself.”

       “Protecting me from--? _Fuck you_!”

       “I’m trying to _help_ you—”

       “Tell me you didn’t know,” I gritted out, my chest tightening. “Tell me you didn’t leave me to rot in that cellar.”

       A ruddy flush filled his face. “I had no idea that you would fight them. They told me they could make you stronger, make it so you could heal people without hurting yourself. Why wouldn’t you want that, Aly? Why would you do this to yourself?” He gestured to the scars and I couldn’t hold back a snarl of rage. Everything inside me boiled and fire started licking at my muscles again. Betrayal cut so deep inside me that I could hardly process words.

       “I protected you,” I hissed. “Our whole lives I’ve protected you, _killed_ for you.”

       He scoffed. “Protected me from what?”

       “From monsters like _him_!” I jerked toward Stokes where he stood watching us with undisguised fascination. “You knew they had taken me and you did _nothing_?! They had me for _months_ , Grady!”

       “If you had said yes, it would’ve been over in a matter of hours.” His eyes were cold. His dark eyes, the same eyes that had wrinkled in laughter and softened with affection my whole life, were now cold and emotionless. “You dragged it out, Aly, not them. I’m not going to watch you continue to destroy yourself. Your stubbornness dragged me back into this mess when it should’ve been over months ago. This is the better way, Aly. The _only_ way.”

        “Don’t you stand there and tell me this is my fault,” I hissed. “ _Damn_ you—!”

       Grady just rolled his eyes. “You’re a healer, Aly. You have a gift, but it’s not fulfilling its true potential. If you don’t do this, someday it is going to kill you. So what, Stokes asked you to heal some of his men. I don’t think it’s unreasonable for him to expect some kind of repayment. He’s saving your life--!”

       “They’re monsters, Grady. Those sons of bitches belong back in hell and I was _not_ going to heal them and set them free back on humanity!”

       “I don’t care who he asked you to heal – he can make you _stronger_. I thought you would want this!”

       “You thought I would _want_ this?! He’s turning me _into_ something, Grady – why don’t you understand that?!” Pressure built in my chest.

       Grady jutted out his chin. “Don’t be melodramatic. Not everything has to be a colossal battle against evil, Aly!”

       “If you believe that you’re either stupid or a coward,” I hissed.

       Stokes tsked and stepped closer. “Now, now, Alexis. No reason to go calling names.”

       I ignored him. “He’s turning me into a Chinuitor, Grady – do you even understand what that means?!”

        Grady shrugged carelessly. “It means you’ll be a powerful healer. How is that a bad thing?”

       “He was dosing me with Chinuitor blood, Grady,” I gritted out, trying to suck in a full breath. “But you can’t turn a Chinuitor without consent. So he mixed something up that would force the change. It’s tearing me apart, Grady, from the inside out!”

       Grady’s gaze bounced between us and Stokes nodded in affirmation. “That’s why it’s so important that we finish this. It _will_ tear her apart if we don’t.”

       “See?” Grady lifted his chin. “Quit fighting us. We’re trying to save your life.”

       “He tortured me, Grady—he and those bastards cut me apart!”

       Stokes gave a nonchalant nod. “Had to. Part of the process.”

       A flicker of hesitation crossed his expression. “Well … I guess it doesn’t matter how he does it. He knows what he’s doing, Aly. He’s going to make you stronger, better--!”

       “’It doesn’t matter’?” I gritted my teeth, furious to feel tears escape and leave burning trails down my cheeks. “Look at the scars, Grady. Look at the scars all over my body and tell me it doesn’t fucking matter.” I thrashed in my restraints, sliding down the mattress as much as I could to make my shirt ride up. A thin strip of skin appeared above my waistband, revealing the bottom edge of Krieger’s handiwork.

       Slowly, casting a hesitant glance at Stokes and receiving a negligent shrug in return, Grady moved to roll up my shirt to my ribcage. The cool air chilled my sweat dampened skin and my angry breaths expanded the ragged pink new scars. Grady’s eyes traced Krieger’s circles and the claw marks wrapping around the opposite side of my ribs, mouth curling in distaste.

       “Oh come now, no time for modesty. No reason to only show a taste of our masterpiece.” Stokes stepped up, pulling a knife out of thin air and slicing my shirt from hem to neckline without pause. In the time it took me to suck in a breath Stokes had sliced my jeans, too, throwing them to the side and leaving me in my black underwear and bra. My heart stuttered, the cool air pebbling my skin as my necklace slid back into my hair.

       Grady stepped back in disgust, taking in the ugly ridges and dull pink and white skin still struggling to heal. Almost every inch of me had been altered.

       I struggled to fight down the instinctive recoil from his disgust. “Look at what they did to me and tell me it doesn’t matter. You _knew_ , Grady. You knew they had me the whole fucking time. This wasn’t about helping me. You _sent_ them to find me for what? For my own good? Fuck you. What did you get out of it?” I turned my fury on Stokes. “What did you give him when he gave me up? He never was one for the greater good. He’s too self-serving for that.”

       Stokes lifted a shoulder negligently. “All we had to do was threaten his girl.”

       Emptiness barreled into me and all of the pent up heat and fury vanished. My head dropped back to the bed, numbness spreading through my limbs. “Clarissa.”

       Grady sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “They were going to hurt her, Aly.”

       I said nothing, staring numbly at the fan spinning slowly behind the grate in the ceiling.

       “They … broke into our house one night. Threatened her. Said they would do all kinds of things to her. She was terrified. They had been attempting to reach you for years, said they only wanted to help you, Aly. They want to make you _better._ ”

       “They threatened her.” I echoed, my words a rasping whisper. “They _threatened_ her so you gave me up.”

       He finally looked uncertain. “I … I didn’t know what they were going to do, exactly--”

       “They beat me.” Again, barely more than a whisper escaped me, everything inside me numb. “They whipped me … cut me, and carved into me. They _raped_ me, Grady.”  

       He finally flinched.

       “Over. And over. And _over_.” I turned to him slowly and cursed the tear running down my cheek. “You deny it all you want, but you knew what they were going to do. …If it wasn’t for you, none of this would’ve happened.”

       The look in his eyes was stark, internal doubt slowly being replaced with censure. “Why didn’t you just say _yes_?”

       I choked in disbelief. “That’s what you have to say to me? _That_?” I lurched toward him, straining to reach what had once been a beloved face. The handcuffs caught me up short but still I strained, growling. “You bastard!”

       “Now, now,” Stokes came up on the other side of me, grabbing a hold of my throat and slamming me back to the bed. “Save your strength. We still have yet to get to the good part.”

       “Fuck you, Grady,” I hissed hoarsely, Stokes’ fingers digging into my neck. “Run home to Clarissa. You’ve done your part. I hope you rot in hell!”

       Grady stumbled back from my anger, getting to his feet to avoid my flailing legs. “Don’t act like all of your pain is my fault – all you had to do was say yes!”

       “He’s right you know,” Stokes raised an eyebrow at me and avoided my attempt to elbow his face. “It’s pretty simple.”

       “Fuck you,” I snarled. “Go ahead and kill me, I’ll never heal for you!”

       “Lucky for you, your willingness is no longer the issue. We discovered what we were missing the first time around.” Stokes suddenly stepped in, waving Grady back farther. “Go and bleed the angel. We need as much of his vessel’s blood as you can manage.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hang in there! I swear, Dean will be back the next chapter! I was going to continue it on until his return but this chapter was starting to get super long. I didn't want to keep you all waiting but just know that I am well on my way through the next chapter. Hope to have it posted by the end of the week!
> 
> **disclaimer: I made some adjustments to the layout of Bobby's basement to suit my story needs.
> 
> *I do not own Supernatural but sure do love borrowing the beloved characters and playing in their world for a short while.*


	22. Bleed the Angel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning - rough waters ahead! 
> 
> If you don't do well with torture, I would recommend skimming this chapter. It's pretty lengthy and bad things happen to Cas and Alex both. If you want to skip it altogether, just comment at the end and I'll provide a rough summary of the plot progression so you can still keep up with the story.

        Grady dragged Castiel out of the small cell in the far corner of the basement, and Cas froze when he saw Sam still laying on the floor in a bloody heap, his chest rising and falling laboriously. With a roar, Cas hauled back and nailed Grady in the face with a right hook, snapping his head around. Grady stumbled but used the position to wrap his arms around Cas’s waist and tackle him to the ground. They hit the floor hard and Cas wrestled him around, trying to grab the angel sword from his grasp.   

       “What have you done?!” He bellowed, and the lights flickered ominously.

       Grady flipped Cas onto his back and pinned him, pressing the angel sword to his neck. “Shut up. He’s the least of your worries.”

       Cas jerked his head toward me, his blue eyes were bright with apprehension. “I can’t feel Dean, I can’t hear his prayers. Something’s _wrong_ —”

       No, I refused to believe it. Dean was fine. He was coming--

       Grady slammed the hilt of the sword into Cas’s face, opening up a jagged gash on his cheekbone. “I said _shut up._ ”

       “Grady, no--!” I thrashed in my restraints, ignoring the sudden streaking pain in my face. “Stop it!”

       Grady held my gaze and deliberately slammed the hilt down on Cas’s face again. The side of Cas’s face began to swell and he blinked dazedly. Grady tightened his grip. “These people aren’t your family, Aly. I am.”

       “Stop, Grady, please—”

       “Our whole lives you’ve refused to let anyone in, even Clarissa. Why _them_? Why now?” He snapped a punch to Cas’s throat, and he doubled up in pain, wheezing for air.

       My struggle for air from Sam’s injury suddenly launched straight into strangulation. I strained, fighting to get my hands to my throat, to roll on my side, _anything_. I couldn’t breathe. Oh God, I couldn’t breathe.

       “Stop!” Stokes’ command snapped across the air and Grady froze. “Bring him here, quickly.”

       I choked, my crushed windpipe barely letting a pinhole of air into my lungs. My vision was graying and still I couldn’t get any air. Horrifying wet gurgles escaped and I fought harder against my restraints.

       “What’s wrong with her?” Grady dragged Castiel over to me and threw him in a heap beside the bed. Frantically I struggled against the handcuffs, straining to reach him.

       Stokes suddenly unlocked the handcuff on my left hand and I threw out an arm and connected with Cas’s thrashing head. His choking gasps matched the guttural sounds escaping me. I pulled him closer and plastered my hand to his forehead, trying to maintain the physical contact. The voices, oh lord, the prayers—

_Help me, please! Oh, God, please make it stop, make him stop hurting me—_

_I don’t know why my daddy is so angry, can you help him have a good day today? I just want him to be happy when I get home …_

_No one will notice if I am not here, no one will miss me when I’m gone—_

_The pain, I can’t handle the pain! Sober isn’t worth this much agony—_

       I struggled to focus on the damage in Cas’s throat, frantically trying to knit his cells back together and open up his air pipe. Louder the voices came, the pleas getting angry as I heard them more clearly and a small ribbon of air started to reach my lungs.

_Where are you? I pray and pray and there is no rescue!_

_I don’t understand, I prayed that my daddy would have a good day but he didn’t. He’s so angry now, I just want to hide…_

_WHY doesn’t anyone care? Why doesn’t anyone notice me? Why can’t they hear me cry for help--?_

_Forget it, I’m not strong enough to be sober. I’ll never be strong enough. No one_ _hears my prayers for strength and I can’t do this on my own—_

       My throat finally opened up and Cas fell out of my grasp, both of us limply panting for breath.

       “Fascinating.” A new light of intrigue filled Stokes’ eyes. Without a word he dug his finger into the gaping hole in my chest from Sam’s wound. I shrieked through gritted teeth.

       “No!” Cas lurched toward me but Grady slammed a hand to his shoulder and pinned him back to the ground.

       Stokes cast a quick glance at Sam still passed out on the floor outside the bunker. “That from him?”

       I hissed in a breath. “Stokes, you son of a bitch--”

       Stokes looked at me consideringly. “No reason for that. You’ve certainly come a long way in the past month, and I’m seeing all sorts of possibilities.” He nudged Cas with his foot. “What about you, angel? Still have enough angel mojo to do some parlor tricks? I know these sigils must feel like hell.”

       I struggled to lift myself high enough to check on Cas and the sight chilled me to the bone. He was deathly pale and his whole body was shaking. Even the dim light in the panic room seemed to be too much for him. Shit, Dean needed to hurry the hell up. “You’ve got to get him out of here, he can’t—”

       “Hush, Alexis. He’s just fine. How about it, angel? Show me what an angel can do.”

       Cas pulled himself together and started to move toward Sam.

       “Oh no, no, no. I’m interested to see if you can heal _her._ ” Stokes seized the hand he had freed and jerked it toward Cas. I had been fighting the restraints with every fiber of my strength, and torn my wrists to shreds. I averted my eyes as I noticed blood was streaked down my forearms, the sight one all too familiar. The pain hadn’t even registered with everything else going on. “Dear Sammy is perfectly fine right where he is. My curiosity is piqued. I did not realize that Alexis had progressed so far, and her condition appears to be quite different than all of our other failed test subjects. I want to see if you can fix this. Call it medical research if you will.”

       Without a word Cas took my hand in his careful grasp. His bright blue eyes squinted at me, and a bead of sweat rolled down his forehead. “Gladly.” He let his eyelids drop and his grip tightened. A long slow beat of silence passed, and his forehead wrinkled. Cas’s eyelids popped open and resignation filled his eyes. “I … can’t.”

       “Because of the sigils or because of _her_?” Stokes’ pressed, intrigued.

       Cas’s grip tightened further, bordering on painful. “Because demon blood has been mixed into her body. You knew I wouldn’t be able to heal her.” Anger underlined his tone.

       “Wait, what?” Grady straightened, keeping a steady eye on Cas but he looked too ill to get to his feet. “What does he mean, demon blood?”

       Stokes lifted a shoulder negligently. “Call it hedging our bets. She was fighting the change too hard in the beginning. We thought it may give us a bit more control over her.”

       “You threw her system into chaos! Most humans would die from such a heavy dose.” Cas’s low voice dropped even deeper and he leaned more heavily against the bedframe.

       “We hoped she could handle it.” Stokes shrugged again. “You and I both know she wasn’t human even when she came into my keeping, Castiel.”

       My gaze bounced between them. “What?” I pinned Cas with a stare. “What the hell am I?”

       “You mean what _were_ you.” Stokes corrected smugly. “Now you’re quite the hybrid mutt.” 

       “ _What_ , Cas?”

       He avoided my eyes and tension knotted my muscles.  

       “No need to worry about that, cupcake. All I need you to focus on right now is following my instructions. This is going to be a very delicate process.” Stokes straightened, his sense of purpose filling the room. “Grady, bleed the angel.”  
       Damn it, where the hell was _Dean_?!

       Smirking, Grady drew the sword to Cas’s neck but Stokes grabbed his arm and stalled the movement. “ _Carefully_. Anything you do to him she will suffer for. We need them both to stay alive.”

       Grady paused, eyeing me with a furrow in his brow. “Mark for mark?”

       “Mark for mark.” Stokes confirmed. “And if something goes wrong with the angel, know that I will be taking it out of _your_ hide.”

       Grady hesitated. “But … this will finish it, right? This will finish the whole process and I’ll be free to leave?”

       “Grady, you spineless bastard—” I hissed. If he hurt Cas, so help me--

       “Shut up, Aly.” Grady snapped. “I know you don’t believe me but I _do_ want to end this. For _you._ Hold still.” He grabbed the bucket full of blood I had vomited and threw the contents out to the side. He propped the bucket beneath Cas’s unresisting arms and with a neat slice opened up Cas’s forearm and blood started to drip steadily into the bucket.

        Fire licked up my arm but nothing I couldn’t handle. “You son of bitch!” I struck out and nailed Grady in the face, making him drop back a step with an angry snarl.

        Stokes grabbed my free arm and quickly locked it back into the handcuffs. “Just relax, my dear. This will all be over soon.”

       “Damn it, leave Cas alone!” I thrashed in my restraints, ignoring the pressure building in my chest. I pressed my eyes closed and tried to reach out to Stokes, tried to wade through the tsunami of darkness surrounding his emotions. Maybe if I pushed hard enough, I would be able to hurt him even without touch. Surely there was _something_ I could do.I dug deep for the heat, for the anger to ignite but there was nothing more than a low hum of energy skittering in my veins.

       “Come now, that’s quite enough, Alexis. I’ve been patiently waiting through all your drama to get to my favorite part.” Stokes raised his eyebrows with delighted promise, shoving the gag back in my mouth and tying it tightly. “I would much prefer to be observing and guiding the process than getting my hands dirty but we all must play the hand we are dealt. Bobby was kind enough to leave us all the supplies we could need for the procedure.” Stokes disappeared from my sight for a long moment before reappearing in the doorway with a small medical cart. The wheel squeaked as he rolled it in and parked it at my feet. “Unfortunately for you, sloppy handiwork and improper research is what botched it the first time around.” His whole focus narrowed down to donning the bright blue gloves and touching the individual tools consideringly. My breaths started coming fast and short.

       I had been here before, so many times, so many different tormentors.

       Stokes continued to prattle on, drowning out the sounds of distress from Castiel. “You aren’t going to like me much by the end of this, I fear.” He chuckled, finally selecting a large scalpel. “It may not have felt like it at the time but almost every cut we made to you in that cellar had a purpose. A few of your wounds were unfortunate…” He ran his gloved fingers along the claw marks across my ribs and the set that ran across my shoulder down to the top of my breast. “…But controlling a hungry pack of demons and vampires is no easy task. I had to reward them somehow for good behavior.”

       I snarled behind the gag, straining in my handcuffs, struggling to pull through. All of my energy was focused toward him, fighting to attack, fighting to save Cas. The more I fought the farther the power seemed and the harder it was to catch my breath. Gray began to edge my vision.

       “There’s the fight I love.” Stokes cooed, drawing the scalpel along the largest scar on my ribs, splitting my skin effortlessly and allowing a long, thick ribbon of blood to escape.

       I gritted my teeth against the pain, pushing through it to try and throw my full weight against the handcuffs. Stokes drew the scalpel along another scar, freeing another stream of blood. The gray strengthened, dimming the lights and making my pulse pound in my ears as flashes of memory started to pull me under.

 _There’s my feisty girl. You like the bite of pain, don’t you? You sit there in silence and bear it but just look at that beautiful blush on your skin, that drop of blood that drips from you biting your lips… Hell, baby. You were meant to be one of us._ Stokes’ face wavered in front of me, his eyes darkening. _Krieger worked you over nice and raw for me, didn’t he? You go right ahead, sweeting. Scream if you like, but there’s no one here to listen._

       A hard slap to my face brought me back to the present. “Alexis, _focus_.” Irritation laced Stokes’ voice.

       I started to shake, heart thundering as his familiar command rang in my ears. Damn him. Damn them all. Fear crawled beneath my skin relentlessly, sucking the energy from my useless attempts to fight back. My strength of will was nothing in the face of the helplessness.

       “You said she needs the angel blood, right?” Grady interrupted. “Can’t you just run an IV or something?”

       Stokes flicked him an irritated glance before opening up the puckered scar on my thigh. “We fed too much darkness into her bloodstream the first time around. The angel blood should restore the balance. She’s so close to a complete conversion, I can almost taste her.  The power already coursing through her veins … when she’s complete she will truly be a force to behold. Faulkner will be pleased.”

       “But why do you have to cut into her again?” Grady pressed, paling. “I didn’t sign up for this.”

       The thunderous expression on Stokes’ face made Grady fall back a step. “You signed up for whatever the hell I tell you, boy. Make no mistake, you’ve nearly outlived your usefulness to me.” He made a vicious cut on the inside of my thigh, dangerously close to my femoral artery. “We can’t just ‘run an IV or something’,” he mocked. “Krieger made a mistake when he gave her demon blood. If he had just left her be, the Chinuitor blood would’ve worked alongside her natural power. But because of Krieger’s incessant need to mark his victims, the Chinuitor blood is fighting the host. The angel blood will even out the scales and theoretically her body will be strong enough to purge the demon blood itself. Krieger got … enthusiastic … and would pour demon blood into every cut he made on her. There’s no way of knowing which were his and which weren’t so we have to put his blood,” he gestured to Cas who was propped limply against the side of the bed, almost all of the color gone from his face and sweat rolling down his forehead in thick droplets, “into every single scar on her body. Open them all back up.”

        _Oh, God--_

       “That will kill her!” Grady protested.

       Stokes shrugged. “Didn’t the first time. Can’t see why it would be different now.”

       “Look, I’ll drain the angel and the Winchesters, but I’m not going to stand here and listen to her scream. I want this over as much as you do, but—”

       “Oh, I highly doubt that, boy.” Stokes murmured, eyeing him consideringly. “You have no great love for her, that much is obvious. Why the squeamishness?”

       Grady shifted uncomfortably. “… I care about her. I do.”

      “Don’t hide behind false nobility. No one here is fooled.”

       “I just … I can’t handle that much blood. I just … can’t.” He paled further, taking an unsteady step away.

       Stokes rolled his eyes, muttering. “You’re useless.” He dug the scalpel along my collarbone methodically, digging deep into the claw marks. I bowed against the pain, clenching my teeth against the scream welling up. The movement seemed to please Stokes and his darkness strengthened in the room.

       “Seriously, I can’t watch this—”

       Stokes stiffened, pausing mid cut. His milky white eyes raised slowly to meet Grady’s. “Then you can take over.”

       “What? No way—” Grady stepped back from Cas, holding up his hands.

      “Take the knife, boy, or I’ll kill you where you stand.” Stokes straightened, his tone even. He stared Grady down, his promise heavy in the air.

       Grady’s breath shallowed, a sick green tinge coming to his skin. “No.”

       Without a word, Stokes snapped a hand out and grabbed him around the throat. Grady gurgled, fighting to loosen his grip. Stokes slowly drew him closer until their noses almost touched. “Don’t misunderstand me, boy. You’ll be no great loss.” Stokes brought the bloody scalpel up to Grady’s face and eyed him as if deciding how to end his pathetic life.

       “Fine,” Grady wheezed. “ _Fine!_ I’ll do it.”

       Stokes released him and shoved the scalpel in his hand. “Follow my instructions _exactly._ ”

       Grady tightened his shaky grip on the scalpel, his eyes dropping to mine for one soul-shattering moment before he looked away, a ruddy flush looking grotesque on his insipid skin.

       Horrified, I stared at him, shock forcing me into disbelief, holding onto that one shred of hope that he would turn the scalpel on Stokes, would end this whole hellish ordeal. Instead I heard the murmur of Stokes’ voice guiding him, directing him where to press the metal edge into my skin, how hard to push to draw forth a stream of blood but avoid hitting any arteries. Grady completed the task only to move onto the next scar and repeat the soft, excruciating pressure that bloomed agony into every inch of my body. I shut down, all thought processes ceasing and overwhelmed by nothing but pain. A soft touch on my leg brought me numbly to the surface long enough to meet Cas’s gaze and drown in the distress in his bright blue eyes. He squinted, focusing hard on me for a long moment and I felt blessed oblivion overwhelm me.

             

        Awareness came back slowly. I could hear something falling wetly on the floor and the soft sounds of movement in the room. My mind felt shredded, unwilling or unable to process the past few hours. Cas had eased it as much as possible but as soon as his strength gave out, he had been unable to hold me under. The respite he had offered had been short lived.

       “Alexis.”

       I pressed my eyes closed against him. A single tear dropped down my cheek and into my hairline.

       “Come now, beautiful. Let me see your lovely green eyes. I know you’re awake.” He sat on the edge of the bed and briskly wiped the tear from my face before removing the gag. “How are you feeling?”

       He had asked me the same thing once, after a particularly rough night with several of his demons.

_Settle down, boys, you’ll get your turn._

_Help me pin her down, she wants it bad today, look at that fire in her eyes…_

       The pinch of Stokes’ fingers on my chin mercifully brought me back to the present. “Alexis, answer the question. It’s done. We’ve opened you back up, set things to rights. How are you feeling?”

       “Cas.” The word croaked out of me, the first one to cross my lips since Grady had taken the knife. “He’s … alive?”

       Stokes laughed, startled. “You certainly are a wonder. Still so worried for others, even in the midst of fulfilling your true potential at last. You realize they’re nothing compared to you now, don’t you?”

       “Cas. Let me see … him.”

       “No need to concern yourself—”

       “ _Now._ ” 

       He shrugged in acquiescence. “Fine. I’ll let you check for yourself. In fact, I’ll have Grady bring Sammy in as well.” He released the handcuffs and gestured to Grady. Grady ducked out the door without meeting my eyes.

       Unable to hold back a groan, I rolled to my side and set my feet on the floor. I was covered in wounds, blood everywhere. Agony pounded at the back of my eyelids and I raised my head enough to spot Cas still on the ground, his arm laid open almost to the bone now and still flung over the top of the bucket. I had to be strong. I needed to save him. I couldn’t let he or Sam suffer because of me a moment longer. I tried to get up but only managed to collapse off the side of the bed and fall into a somewhat kneeling position, agony obliterating thought for one blinding moment. _Castiel_. I pressed my hand to his, feeling for a pulse in his wrist.

       Nothing.

       I pressed harder, determined find hope, to find a chance at redemption.

       He had no pulse.

       The coolness of his skin finally registered, and frantically I focused inward, desperately trying to find the connection, to feel the beat of his heart so I could repair the damage.

       There was nothing but a vast emptiness.

       “Alex!”

       Grady shoved Sam into the panic room on his knees, Sam’s dear battered face gray.

       “Sam,” I croaked, horror soaking my words. “Cas … is _gone.”_

       “What? No!” Sam fought against Grady’s grasp. Grady shoved the angel sword against his throat.

       “Come now, Alexis.” Stokes murmured, stepping close enough to rest a hand on the back of my neck. “Surely you can do something about that.”

       I stared at him, stripped of hope, desolation welling inside me.

       “You don’t seem to understand, my dear. We’ve completed the process. You’re a full Chinuitor now. Flex your wings, my dear girl. If the angel is gone, surely you can bring him back.”

       I strained for the heat, for the power that should be thumping in my veins. There was only a vague wisp of warmth that slipped through my grasp. I pushed harder, scrambling to find _anything_ that would save him. There was just … emptiness.

       “Heal him, Alexis.” Stokes’ voice sharpened. “I don’t have time for your games.”

       “I … _can’t_!” I rasped. “He’s already _gone_!” Desperation surged and I struggled to get to my feet. Blood dripped down my body and my strength faltered, barely managing to keep to my feet.

       “Oh, God, Alex, what did they do to you?” Sam whispered.

       “You killed him!” I turned on Stokes, weaving against the agony beginning to scorch through my body. “You _killed_ him because of me!” 

       A loud ruckus swung everyone’s attention to the open doorway of the panic room as the door at the top of the stairwell burst inward and fell to pieces. Dean and Bobby stormed the stairwell, firing shots as they came. One shot hit Grady square in the back and his knees buckled. Sam threw him to the ground and let loose. Over and over he pounded into his face until Grady stopped trying to fight back and fell limply beneath the blows.

       Stokes grabbed me around the neck and jerked me to his chest, the scalpel from the bedside suddenly at my throat. “Now, Dean, stay back—”

       “Let her go!” Dean’s eyes snapped with hatred as he stepped into the panic room with a shotgun, his eyes touching on Sam before dropping to Cas’s still form for a split second and bouncing back to me. Bobby stepped in behind him, shotgun held high and his expression thunderous.

       “You take one more step and I’ll slit her throat—”

       “Let her fucking go,” he ground out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love love love to hear feedback from my readers! This is my first fanfic and it has taken on a life of its own. I am always looking to hear constructive criticism or even just hear your thoughts on each chapter! It's just as much an adventure writing it as it is to read, so thank you for taking the time to join me on the journey.
> 
> *I do not own Supernatural but sure do love borrowing the beloved characters and playing in their world for a short while.*


	23. Rescue

       Dean circled around to my left and Bobby circled to my right. “Sam, get Cas out of here.”

       Sam left Grady in a mess on the floor and threw an arm around Cas’s chest, dragging him out of the panic room.

       Dean lifted his chin, fury burning bright in his eyes. “We all know you aren’t going to kill her.”

       “I wouldn’t be so sure,” Stokes snapped. “Look at the condition of your precious girl, Deano. She hasn’t fared so well in my keeping.” He dug his finger into one of the open wounds and my knees buckled from the pain flaring white hot. His arm wrapping tightly around my chest was the only thing holding me up as I hissed through the pain, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of a scream.

       “Shoot him, Dean, what the hell are you waiting for?” Bobby growled, drawing the shotgun tighter to his shoulder.

       “I promised—” Dean’s green eyes snapped to mine for a heart-stopping moment, “I promised that she would be the one to slit his throat. Do you remember, baby girl? You begged me to let you be the one to end this. Keep fighting, baby girl, don’t give in yet. I need to see your fight, sweetheart. Don’t let him win.”

       I struggled to hold it together, the sight of him standing in front of me almost more than I could handle. Fuck, I just wanted this to be over. “Dean, Cas—”

       Dean jerked his gun up higher when Stokes started to move. “Don’t even think about it, you son of a bitch. I’ll take the shot if I have to.”

       Stokes pressed the scalpel tighter to my throat, hard enough to break the skin and Dean’s eyes narrowed menacingly. “Don’t test me, boy. She may be my greatest creation but what good is an achievement if you aren’t alive to reap the rewards for them? Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to let us through, and I swear she will come to no additional harm as long as she behaves. I have all the cards here, my boy. ”

       “Like hell,” Dean snarled. “I’ll rip you apart with my fucking hands if I have to. She’s not going anywhere and you’ll never set foot outside this room again.”

       “Take the shot, Dean.” Bobby growled, adrenaline threading his words. “We can’t risk--”

       My gaze fell on the open doorway where Sam had disappeared with Cas’s body, everything inside me sinking with dread, knowing I had to tell him. “Dean, _Cas_ —I couldn't do it--”

       “Alex, baby, look at me.” Dean’s sharp command dragged my attention from the empty doorway. “End this, sweetheart. We have everything else under control. No one is going to hurt you anymore. You deserve a chance to get your revenge for everything this bastard has put you through. But I’m not willing to risk you, sweetheart, so do it now.”

       I just stared at him dully, knowing he wasn’t hearing me, that he wasn’t understanding. Cas’s death was all my fault. Not Grady’s, not Stokes – _mine_. My unfailing trust in Grady had led us here. The person who knew me inside and out had systematically taken me apart to save his own skin, and his cowardice was more than I could fathom. My unwillingness to believe Grady had changed had allowed him to hurt Sam and kill Cas. They were Dean’s family, his everything. Cas was _gone_ because of me.

       “Damn it, Dean, take the shot or I will!” Bobby’s impatience spurred Stokes to press the scalpel deeper into my skin and a thick drop of blood rolled down my neck to join the others on my collarbone.

       “You kill me, she dies too.” Stokes swore, his heart beginning to race against my back. “Don’t make a mistake you can’t live with.”

       “Alex, come on, baby girl. Snap out of it. You got this. Be strong.”

        I pressed my eyes closed against his plea for strength. I had nothing left to give him. “Just let me die,” I whispered. “I’m sorry, Dean ... I’m _so sorry_.”

       Simultaneous shots echoed loudly in the room and Stokes dropped. Dean stepped closer and kept squeezing the trigger, unloading round after round into the still form until he ran out of ammunition. Even then he spun the gun around and slammed the butt of the shotgun into Stokes’ head over and over again until Bobby reached out and pressed a large hand to his shoulder, pulling him back gently. Dean threw the gun tot he side and gathered me into his arms, his breath coming in tight bursts.

       “Shh, baby girl, it’s fine. You’re safe now. You’re all right. Everything is going to be ok–” He bit off the rest of his words and swept my broken body up into his arms. He sank to the floor with his back to the iron wall, me cradled in his lap. He pressed soft kisses to my forehead and tears started flooding down my face, mixing with the blood. “Fuck, you scared the shit out of me. Everything is going to be ok.”

       “I’m so sorry… fuck, I’m so _sorry_ … I never meant—”

       “Shh, baby girl, you’re all right. Calm down, none of this is your fault. Let me just look at you a minute.” He pulled back enough to that I was pressed into his shoulder, staring straight into his green eyes. “There’s so much blood in here, Lex, is it all yours? Please tell me it’s not all yours.”

       “Dean, you aren’t _listening_ —”

       He pressed a hard kiss to my forehead. “It doesn’t matter. We’ll get you fixed up. Cas—”

       “Is _dead_!” I balled up my fist and pushed against his chest, trying to get out of his arms. “I tried, Dean—” My breaths started coming choppy, “I tried to heal him, to fix it—but he was already _gone_! I couldn’t—I couldn’t feel his heartbeat, and then I couldn’t—Dean, I’m _sorry_!” The rasping moan that escaped tore from so deep inside me that there were no more words, just the deep guttural sobs that came one after another.

       Dean stiffened beneath me. “What?”

       “It’s all my fault—This is all my fault! Let me go, please, just let me go…”

       Dean got his feet beneath him and lifted me up as he stood, ignoring my attempts to get free. “Sam!” He bellowed, striding for the door. “You two better be fucking fine or so help me—” The two figures standing on the other side turned at his call. Sam … and Cas.

       Cas was standing on his own two feet, healthy color restored and his shredded and bloodied sleeve the only indication of what had happened.

       “Cas!” I lurched out of Dean’s grasp and stumbled into Cas’s arms, throwing my own around his neck. He froze in surprise before cautiously putting his arms around me and supporting my weight. The tears started flowing again and suddenly I couldn’t breathe. He was here in my arms, alive. The stubborn bastard was alive.

       “Why are you concerned for me? You have been through a hellish ordeal and the things Grady did—” His grasp suddenly tightened. “I should’ve been able to stop him, to help more—”

       Suddenly, my entire body went numb. Shock shuddered through my system and flickers of agony interspersed with heat lit up my entire existence. I convulsed in Cas’s arms and he nearly dropped me. Starbursts of pain exploded all over my body and I dropped my forehead to Cas’s chest, unable to hold back the cry of agony.

       “Fix it, Cas, fix her now!” Dean bellowed, pulling me out of his arms and lowering me to the ground.

       “This is not something I can fix, Dean—”

       “Damn it, Cas--!”

       “The sigils in the room were dampening her power, Dean, the things they did to her in there are only now hitting her system. We just have to let this run its course. They poured my blood into her system—”

       “That could kill her, Cas!” Fear roughened Dean’s voice and he crouched at my side, holding me still against the convulsions.

       “No more than the demon blood they gave her in the cellar,” Cas snapped angrily. “It’s a miracle she’s not already dead with all they have done to her. She—”

       “What do we do?” Sam interjected helplessly. “She was vomiting blood all day, Dean, even before—” He bit off the rest of his words, glaring ferociously into the panic room. “We can’t just let her—”

       “We have to wait this out. They completed the process, Dean.”

       The convulsions stopped as abruptly as they had started and I sucked in a deep breath desperately, grabbing a hold of Dean’s shirt as an anchor.

       He stared at me in horror.

       “You mean they _turned_ her?” Sam asked, distressed.

       Cas nodded affirmatively. “She’s a full Chinuitor, now. Or she will be, if she survives.”  
       A broken breath left me as pain exploded inside my head. The power erupted in my entire body, incinerating all thought and awareness. My skin rippled, burns appearing and disappearing rapidly over every inch of my skin. Unimaginable heat singed every nerve in my body and shoved me to my knees. I stared at the back of my hands as the skin burned away to ash and then healed only to repeat the process again and again and again. I felt like I was dying, burning from the inside out as white light filled my vision. Finally blessed blackness reached out for me and I embraced it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't get used to the back to back chapters being posted! lol I got lucky and had some time at work to sneak some writing in. Already 700 words into the next chapter as well but it's looking to be another long one so hang in there! Dean and Alex are getting some serious one on one time going in the next chapter, and things will be warming up. They're currently in the shower and that's all I'm saying, no matter how much you beg. ;-) 
> 
> Comments as to whether you're wanting some serious romance scenes or whether you like that there's not a lot of smut in this fic are appreciated!! Guide my muse, dear readers!
> 
> *I do not own Supernatural but sure do love borrowing the beloved characters and playing in their world for a short while.*


	24. Light Despite The Darkness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up, this is a really long chapter! It's almost eight pages in Word, so I'm sorry if it's hard to read in one sitting. I have been so overwhelmed with the response to this story that I just don't have words to thank you all enough for reading. Posting chapters and waiting to hear back from you all is the highlight of my week and I can't wait to hear your thoughts on this one in particular. It kind of got away from me and it is my first attempt at this kind of intimacy and certainly my first time posting it to the public. So, be kind but please let me know if you have any suggestions or ways I can improve on their intimacy in the future. I want to continue to build Dean and Alex's relationship but I want to be sure that their intimacy is enjoyable to read and not awkward or stiff or unsatisfying. So please! Leave me comments, be they good or bad! I love to hear from you!

       Cold. I was so cold. Shudders racked my body and my muscles were locked with the cold in my bones. Discomfort kept me from sliding back into slumber and I shifted restlessly on the couch in the living room, a lumpy blanket over me. My face and fingers were numb and I wondered if Bobby had decided that hypothermia was the best way to handle my surviving the change.

       “Alex.” Dean perched beside me and pressed a warm palm to my face, checking my temperature. “Alex, you need to wake up and move around. Your body can’t handle this much longer.”

       I leaned into the touch and he brushed the hair out of my eyes gently, eyes unreadable. “Can’t I just go back to sleep?” I whispered.

       His closed his eyes for a long moment, pressing his forehead to mine. “No, you need to get your blood flowing. You’re freezing.”

       “If Bobby would turn up the thermostat, I would be just fine,” I complained, my lips stiff.

       “We’ve had the heat cranked up for several hours.” He leaned closer and I noticed little beads of sweat dampening his skin, a single drop giving up and sliding down the column of his throat to disappear beneath the collar of his light blue t-shirt.

       I pulled back, scanning the room to find us alone. “How long have I been sleeping?”

       “You got a few hours in before the chills hit.” He ran the back of his rough fingers down my cheekbone.

       “Is … is Cas really ok?”

       Dean nodded, clenching his jaw and pulling back. “He’s fine. We’re all fine. It’s you I’m worried about.”

       I sighed, unsure how to respond.

       He rolled his shoulders, trying to ease the tension as he stood up. “Let’s get some food in you. Then we have a lot to talk about.”

       The living room was completely silent when he left and I sat up, wrapping the blanket around me tightly. My entire body was covered in ash and blood and I cringed, hoping the blanket wasn’t one of Bobby’s favorites. I evaluated the stiffness in my muscles as it slowly dawned that the pain was gone. Every inch of me ached with discomfort but nothing _hurt_. I shucked the blanket, my heart beginning to pound. Beneath the red stained ash mottling my skin, there weren’t any -- “Dean!”

       Dean appeared in the doorway to the kitchen, a tray in his hands. “Try and eat some soup—”

       “Shut up! Shut the fuck up!” Elated, I grabbed his hand and started dragging him down the hallway.

       He scrambled to set the tray on a chair before everything spilled, barely managing before my momentum dragged him away. “Shit, Alex, what’s gotten into you?”

       “Look--you have to see!” I got a firmer grip on his hand and shuffled up the stairwell, towing Dean behind me as he muttered in concern. I rushed into the bathroom and pulled him in after me, slamming the door shut.

       His eyes flew open in bewilderment. “I know I said to get up and move around, but hell, baby, take a breath--” I pulled us into the shower and turned the water on full blast. It splattered wetly against Dean’s clothes. “Fuck,that’s cold!”

       I hummed, the gentle spray feeling heavenly on my cold skin. I turned toward the showerhead and pulled Dean against my back. “Look!” I held my arm up to the spray and watched as the water slowly started to rinse the bloody ash away, revealing perfect unscathed skin beneath.

       Dean sucked in a hard breath, astonishment dropping his voice to a rasp. “Lex…”

       “They’re gone, Dean, the scars are _gone_!” Euphoria bloomed inside me, the feeling so foreign that I could hardly wrap my head around it. I spun in a tight circle and threw my arms around his neck, my heart pounding wildly. “They’re just … gone!”

       He smiled, a big genuine smile at my ecstasy. “I'll hardly recognize you once we get you cleaned up.” He watched me squirm in his arms giddily for a long moment before giving me a gentle squeeze. “See? Everything is going to be okay.”

       I beamed up at him, so thrilled I could hardly breathe. My attention caught on a dark, bloody drop of liquid that slid down my arm, catching in the crease of my elbow before soaking into the wet fabric of Dean’s light blue t-shirt, staining the material darkly. Abruptly my euphoria bubble popped and I froze, the water beginning to heat against my back. Water beaded on my skin, beginning to run in muddy red rivulets as the stained area on his shirt grew larger with every droplet.

       Dean hesitated, seeming to sense the shift. “Alex? You okay, sweetheart?” He brushed a clump of wet hair behind my ear in growing concern.

       “I … I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pulled you in here—” I pulled away from him, pushing at his arms as the pounding of my heart suddenly started to feel frantic. “Look at this mess. I’m getting you all bloody,” I forced a laugh and grabbed a clean wash cloth hanging over the top of the shower wall, starting to scrub at the darkness, all the darkness covering me.

       “Hey.”

       I scrubbed harder, every inch of skin I revealed only showing how much blood was still clinging to the rest of my body.

       “Alex—” Dean reached out to grab my hand and I jerked away, retreating to the corner, scouring desperately. “It’s okay, baby, you’re safe--”

       “…There's so much blood-- I just … I want – I just want to get it all _off_!” The water was scalding against my back now and I couldn’t even feel the tears running down my cheeks. I threw the useless wash cloth to the bottom of the shower and started tearing at my skin with my fingernails. “It isn’t … why won’t it come off?!” I clawed frantically for a horror-stricken moment, unable to stop, unable to breathe, unable to understand why panic was starting to choke me.

       “Alex—”

       I felt smothered, the pressure in my chest only growing as the blood seemed only to smear and spread on my skin.

       “Alex! Stop it!” Dean grabbed a hold of both of my wrists and jerked me up against him, his green eyes wide with alarm. I couldn’t reach any air and a high whine started in the back of my throat. Dean pressed both of my wrists into one hand and pressed me face first into his chest. “Breathe, baby. Just breathe.” With a flip of his wrist, he adjusted the water so it backed off of scalding and settled into a gentle warmth.

       It pounded relentlessly against my back and I bowed into his chest, tears sliding down my cheeks one after another. “It’s everywhere--I can’t get clean, it won’t— _it won’t come off_!”

       “Shh, baby girl. Take a breath. It’ll wash off, I swear. It’s just blood. Take a breath, sweetheart. Come on, you can do it. Breathe deep.” His broad hand rubbed soothing circles on my back. “You’re going to be just fine. This is just a hiccup, you got this. Easy, baby. You’re all right, don’t cry,” he murmured, tucking me in closer and letting the water wash over us. The gentle motions slowly soothed the ragged edges of my mind. “Please, Lex, please don’t cry.” His voice was raspy, one arm wrapped around my hips.

       The panic started to ease and crushing guilt roared in its wake. “I never should’ve stayed here, I never—”

       “What? No, Lex, you _belong_ here, with us. Right here with me, baby girl.” He tucked my head under his chin and kept rubbing circles on my lower back, trying to calm me. “This is your home now. I don’t care what Cas says, we are going to find a way through this and you’re going to have a long life, here with us.”

       “But they hurt Cas and Sam because of _me—_ ” I moaned, feeling as if I were splintering apart. “And _Grady_ —” The grief inside for my childhood friend was so encompassing I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t even reach for air. “My Grady is just _gone_. He doesn’t exist anymore and I can’t--” a rough sob escaped me, “I don’t know what to do without him, what am I supposed to do?”

       “It’s going to be okay, Lex. Sam and I can be your family now, Bobby too. We'll all be right here--”

       “He—he took it. He took the knife from Stokes and—and he _cut_ me—” Horror swelled, taking me out at the knees and Dean just followed me down to the floor of the shower, pulling me into his lap and wrapping his arms around me, his jaw locked and eyes fierce as water dripped down the angles of his face. I wrapped my arms around my waist, trying to huddle into his strength. “Over and over he cut me, Dean—I can’t—I don’t understand… how could he _do_ that?”

        “I’m going to kill him, Lex.” Dean swore, his tone soft but emphatic. “I never should’ve let him set foot in this house—” His words were nothing more than a roar in my ears.

        I stared at my healed skin in a stupor. “He sank that blade into me over and _over_ …” I rubbed at my shoulder roughly, dazed that my skin could be so healed, so clear after the pain it had experienced. “The first one was the worst. He looked at me, looked right in my eyes.” Dully I pressed my fingernails into where the scar had been, desperate to feel _something_ , to see some sign of what I had been through. “I didn’t even feel the pain at first. I thought he would turn on Stokes, that he would save me.” My hollow laugh damaged something inside me. “Instead he moved onto the next scar.” My agitated movements moved to where the wound had been on my collarbone. “Here.” My fingers traced what should’ve been a scar before moving on to the base of my neck. “Then here.” A bruising stroke against the upper curve of my chest. “Then _here_ \--”

        Dean grabbed my fingers before they could move again, his grip almost painful. “Stop. Fuck’s sake, just _stop._ ” The words were guttural, the plea pulled from somewhere deep inside him.

       I shuddered, unable to stop the memories from looping, putting me under the knife again and again. I didn’t have the strength to lift my head as the tears continued to fall.

       “He’ll never hurt you again,” he swore fiercely, his arms tightening around me as the soft water continued to drop all around us. “That bastard is going to wish he never knew you.”

       A gut wrenching sob tore out of me, scalding tears flooding my eyes. But he _did_ —he knew me better than anyone else in the entire world. And none of it had mattered. _I_ hadn’t mattered.

       Dean sagged. “Shh, baby girl, don’t cry. I’m sorry. Fuck, I’m so sorry. I should’ve been there. He never would’ve gotten to you if I—” He stuttered to a stop, his voice little more than a rasp. “Be angry. Please be angry at me, I can handle it. Take a swing at me. Beat me into the ground if it will help. That I can handle. But damn, baby girl, your tears are killing me. I can’t – I would do _anything_ to erase it. To take those memories from you so you never remember a single moment.” His forehead pinched as he clenched his jaw tightly. “But I promise you this: he’ll never come near you again. His hours on this earth are numbered.”

       “I’m so sorry, Dean.” Tears ran messily down my cheeks to the sides of my neck. My words were raspy, remorse nearly stealing the strength to speak them. “It’s my fault that Sam got hurt. That Cas—” Emotion clouded my throat and I choked, pressing my face into his wet chest. “You need to let me go. Let me leave. You know they’ll keep coming for me. I can’t let anything happen—” Just the thought of losing any of them sent a fresh clench of horror through my gut. “I can’t do that again, Dean. Let me leave.”

       “ _Never_.” His grip tightened on me and he pulled back to look into my eyes, green snapping fiercely. “You need us. You need _me_. I’m here, Alex. I’m right here and I am not leaving you alone again. They want to come after you? Fine. We’ll take every last one of those bastards down. You hear me? You’re not leaving. None of this shit is your fault, do you understand me?” He buried a hand in my hair, pulling me closer. “None of it. Stokes is a sadistic bastard that I should’ve killed a thousand times over. I just…” He let out a hard breath, ache filling his gaze. “You were gone. One minute you were there and the next… I knew Faulkner was coming for you and I couldn’t do a damn thing about it. The only thing I knew was that I promised that you would be the one to end Stokes. I thought if he was alive that somehow there was always hope that you would come back. Even if it was just for revenge, I knew I had to see you again. The month you were gone …” He gathered himself, pressing a hard kiss to my forehead. “It was hell, Lex. I know I made a mistake keeping Stokes here, one that put you in danger. But you’re not leaving, Alex. I need to protect you. I _will_ protect you. Just … don’t leave, Lexi, please.”

       “I can’t do this, Dean. I can’t … be strong enough to stay.”

       “Let _me_ be strong enough. Let me take care of you. I know I’ve done a piss-poor job of it so far, but I’m asking you trust me. Give me a second chance. I… I care about you, Lex. Please. Just give me a second chance.”

       I lay in the circle of his arms, the warm water flowing gently down on us. Long moments passed and I wrestled with his request, with the reality of what was coming. “… If I stay, you have to promise me.”

       “Anything.” His grip tightened.

       “Promise that if something happens, you’ll save _them_.” I swallowed roughly. “I can’t – they can’t die because of me.”

       Dean stilled. The only sound in the bathroom was the soft splash of water on the tiles.

       “Promise me that, and I’ll stay.”

       He tipped his forehead down to mine, the words no more than a whisper. “… Don’t ask me to do that, Lex. I can’t make that promise.”

       A sob of exhaustion punched through my chest.

       “Listen to me.” He shifted me on his lap seriously. “I promised you once that for better or for worse, I would always watch your back. That hasn’t changed, baby girl. I know—I know I messed up. I know that I failed to keep you safe. But I swear, I won’t mess up like that again. I’ll do everything in my power to fight for you. To be strong when you can’t be. To carry you when you can’t take another step. If you can’t stay because of the risk to Sam, Cas, and Bobby, then we’ll leave. But you aren’t leaving alone.”

       “Dean—”

       He pressed a fierce kiss on my mouth, using the hand anchored in my hair to pull me to him. He was insistent. Deep, dragging kisses drew me even closer and gently opened me up beneath him, warming my cold muscles until they loosened. Eventually, he eased back, placing soft tender kisses on my face that wreaked havoc inside me. He pressed his forehead against mine, pulling in a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Lex. Sorry I failed you. But I’m not sorry enough that I’m going to let you walk out.”

       I just stared at him in despair, soul-deep fatigue weighing me down.

       “I’m asking you to trust me. You need to rest, you need to _heal_. Trust me that this is where you need to be.”

       Sighing, I closed my eyes in resignation, giving in to the strength of his certainty.

       He pressed a soft kiss to my forehead, a relieved breath escaping him. “Come on. Time to stand up.” He maneuvered me in his arms so he could get his legs beneath us and push us upright. He let my legs drop and I slid down his body slowly until my feet hit the ground. He ran a hand through my wet hair, brushing his thumb across my cheekbone. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

       I stood there silently as he gathered the wash cloth and a bar of soap. He lathered it up with efficient movements before setting the soap to the side, a healthy froth on the fabric. He used the backs of his fingers to push the hair further out of my face. “Close your eyes.”

       I followed his direction, feeling numb, listless. The soft cloth was gently wiped across my face, trailing carefully around my eyes and dragging harder against the blood caked in my hairline.

       “Hold your breath.” He moved quietly around me, detaching the shower head and directing the spray to fall directly against my face, erasing the soap and pushing the bloody water down my body. He took a moment to rinse the blood from my necklace before putting the shower head back in place and picking up the soap again. “Hold still, baby.” His slow, methodical movements soothed me somehow. The rough sound of soap lathering against the fabric, the first long drag of fabric down my skin, the second stroke even longer. Careful attention was paid to the creases and lines of my body, the pink tinged soap suds coasting over my black bra and panties. He paused a moment to pull his soaked light blue t-shirt over his head with one hand, letting it slap wetly on the bottom of the shower, his attention never wavering. He gently maneuvered me to face the other way, the soft rasp of the soap on the fabric lulling me. Slowly, he dragged the wash cloth down the slope of my back, the roughness easing the tension in my muscles. Stroke after stroke he moved over my body with a reverent familiarity. My breathing started to match his strokes, long, deep, and even. I would breathe in slowly if he stroked upward, and let out a sigh when he pulled down. He stepped closer, heat radiating from his body as he rested his left hand on my hip, fingertips ghosting against my skin. The wash cloth was in constant motion, but gradually his focus dipped and started to follow the curves of my body. “Lex.” He breathed my name against the back of my neck.

       I could only manage a hum in response.

       “Tell me… to stop.” The fingertips coasting on my hip slowly dipped beneath the waistband of my underwear, rubbing softly on my hip bone. In response, I simply hooked my own fingers beside his and slowly slid the damp fabric down my legs, the haze of his touch surrounding me. He groaned, pressing a soft kiss to the back of my neck. “This only goes as far as you want it to, baby. Just tell me when you want to stop.”

       I hummed again, leaning forward as he gently unclasped my bra and eased it from my body. He settled me back against his chest, his warmth encompassing me. I let my eyes drift closed as he curled around me, the soapy fabric beginning to stroke me differently. He started again on my belly, but the cloth followed the under curve of my breasts, teasing me with sensation before sliding slowly down my ribs. His left hand settled on my hip, fingers pressing firmly into my skin to hold me in place. The fabric followed the curve of my hip before settling in the crease at the top of my leg, soft strokes flirting with the inner curve of my thigh. I settled my legs a little wider to give him more space, our breathing starting to sync. He ignored my movement, his exploration of my body continuing as he circled back up to my ribs and drew the fabric up over my breasts. The texture of the cloth seemed rougher against the sensitive skin, and I couldn’t help but curve into the sensation.

       “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, the rasp of his words warm against my ear. Words seemed unnecessary as I pressed my small hands to the back of his, following his movements. I laced my fingers between his so I wouldn’t hinder his strokes and then watched the contrast in our skin tones as his hands traced all over my body. Eventually, I eased the cloth from his grip with a gentle pressure and it fell quietly at our feet, his touch suddenly skin on skin. His fingers tightened beneath mine and his breaths shortened.

       He dropped his mouth to my shoulder and pressed a gentle kiss there. “Just relax, baby girl. I’ve got you.” His hand left my hip and traced up my ribs, finally coming up to cradle my heavy breast. The callouses on his fingers dragged against my wet skin as he caressed and stroked the weight of me, sending a warm roll of pleasure up my spine. Our fingers stayed laced together as his touch skated down to the apex of my thighs, stroking teasingly just above where I was beginning to ache. He dragged his middle finger just to the outside of me, along the inner crease of my thigh, back and forth, only highlighting the ache he was so near to easing. His grip on my breast tightened, a small huff of laughter breathed against my neck as I tilted my pelvis more accommodatingly. “Feeling needy, baby girl?”

       I backed my hips into his, cradled the rigid heat of him. God, he felt good against me. I could only imagine—“ _Please_ , Dean.”

       He used our laced hands at my lower belly to push me even harder against him, using the friction of his wet jeans to rub against me with an almost silent moan.

       “Too many clothes,” I murmured, easing my left hand behind me to the button of his jeans.

       He backed out of reach and I whimpered at the loss of contact. “Not this time, sweetheart. Let me take care of you.” He ran his fingers down my arm, wrapping around my wrist and bringing my hand back to my belly. He pressed a series of gentle kisses along the column of my neck as I made a sound of distress. “Easy, Lexi. Trust me, just this once.” With my hands where he wanted them, he pressed back up against me and bumped his hips against me with a soft growl. “You have the most delicious ass. But right now—” his fingers moved, our fingers laced together suddenly pressing directly onto me with a perfect pressure and I bucked with a moan, “I just want to hear more of those noises.”

       I couldn’t have held them back if I tried.

       He made small circles with his fingertips, the pressure making my hips twitch and my neck arch, breath coming shallowly. My heartbeat started to pound beneath his fingertips and he eased free of my tight grip on his hand so that he could adjust the angle. He sank his two middle fingers up into me and I straightened on my toes with a gasp, the fullness of his calloused fingers overwhelming for a moment. “There you go, baby girl. That what you wanted?” He rubbed against the top of me, those callouses making my brain short circuit as his movements lengthened to a rhythmic stroke inside me. He wrapped his other arm around my chest, cradling my breast in his palm and giving it a soft squeeze before tweaking my nipple playfully. The slight pinch pulled a gasp from me and I dropped back on my heels, thrusting his fingers deeper inside me. We released matching groans and I grabbed hold of his wrists tightly, trying to catch my breath. I felt the muscles in his wrist twitch as he strengthened the strokes, reaching deeper and slipping a third finger inside me without pause. “There you go, my beautiful girl. How’s that feel? Have you been aching for me like I’ve been aching for you? Have you been dreaming about me inside you, how well I’ll fill you up and make you come so tight around me? Hell, baby, you’re so sexy. Keep making those noises and—” He bucked his hips against me, the heat of him searing my skin as the length of him jerked against me, “—and fuck, Lex, _damn,_ baby girl, just don’t stop making those noises.”

       I tightened around his thrusting fingers with a high moan, his grip tightening on my breast as he thumbed my clit, his strong wrist twisting. Tighter and tighter I got around his fingers until the pressure released inside me in an explosion of pleasure. He thrust his fingers inside me again and again, high and deep and hard, sending aftershocks racing through my system. He slapped his hand to the shower wall in front of us bracingly, using the fingers still inside me to pull me back against him roughly. He thrust against me with a groan, the deep sound filthy in his throat. The rub of his wet jeans over his hard cock sang through my oversensitive skin and I curved into him, trying to give him the pressure that he needed. “Fuck, Dean, come for me. I've dreamt of you, of this, aching to know what you’d feel like inside me. You’re so _hard_ \-- baby, _please_.”

       He roared his release, dropping forward until he curved around me, his sweaty forehead resting on my shoulder as he panted for breath. The fingers inside me spasmed, sending a flood of delicious tingles through me from head to toe. I gripped his wrist hard and rested my forehead against his outstretched arm still braced on the shower wall, struggling to catch my own breath.

      “Fuck, Lex, you’re gonna kill me when we get to the real thing,” he groaned.

       I couldn’t hold back a smile, tucking my face further into his arm as I flushed happily. “Damn straight,” I murmured against his hot skin, unable to resist the urge to flick my tongue out and taste his skin. The hint of salty sweat beneath the cooling shower water only made me thirsty to taste him all over, preferably stretched out in a big bed somewhere for hours on end.

       With a regretful sigh, he straightened slowly and pulled his fingers from inside me, stroking me softly in praise. “Hell, baby. You’ve got a dirty mouth on you and I can’t say I’m disappointed.” I could hear the grin in his voice and it warmed me, knowing I had put it there. Every inch of me was tingling and Dean Winchester still had me wrapped up in his arms. His toned, flexing, heat pouring off him in waves, arms. Fuck, he was right. We would kill each other when we got to the real thing.

       He stepped back from me only long enough to shuck his jeans and black boxers. “Looks like we need to clean you up again,” he grinned, mischief lighting his vivid green eyes as he spun me around to face him. He pressed a wet, sloppy kiss on me before wrapping an arm around my butt and hoisting me up to straddle his waist. I squeaked, squirming to find a safe purchase. I settled for wrapping my legs around him tightly and tucking my hands into the back of his hair, threading it through my fingers. The smile he flashed me was euphoric and he pulled me back down for another kiss, this one slow, deep, and special. “Thank you,” he whispered against my lips, “thank you for trusting me. I’m here for you, baby, and I’m never going to let you out of my sight again.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I do not own Supernatural but sure do love borrowing the beloved characters and playing in their world for a short while.*


	25. I Think I'm Falling...

     The silence between us was comfortable as we dried off and got dressed. I had just slipped one of Dean’s shirts over my head when stark terror grabbed me by the throat.

_Sam._

     I darted past Dean standing sexy and disheveled in his bedroom and hit the stairs at a dead run. I tried to take them in stride and may have skidded down a few but I hit the end of the stairwell in a spin, lurching into the living room and spotting Cas and Bobby talking.

     “Sam— _where’s_ _Sam_?”

     They both stared at me, startled.

     “Where the fuck is Sam?!”

     “I’m right here, Alex, what’s—”

     I darted into the kitchen where Sam was washing his hands at the kitchen sink. The bloody red water didn’t even register as I started tugging at his shirt. “How bad is it, Sam?”

     “What? Alex, calm down—”

     “Let me see how bad it is right fucking now!” I yelled, my hands stiffening as a cold shiver shook me. I ignored it and pulled anxiously at the bottom hem of his shirt, trying to get it up his long torso.

     He grabbed my wrists, getting his first real look at me. “Alex, your scars--!”

     “ _Let me see_! Now!”

     Bobby and Cas came to the doorway, staring at me in alarm. Huffing with frustration, Sam dragged his shirt off over his head. I grabbed him with one hand, keeping him still as my other traced frantically over his skin high on his chest. There was no blood, no punctures. No collapsed lung, no whistle in his breathing. I looked up at him finally and his hazel eyes were squinted in concern. “Are you okay?”

     “ _Me_? Downstairs, you were – Grady … Sam, your lung was collapsed. I _know_ it was!”

     Sam sucked in a breath as his focus shifted from my healed skin to my frantic eyes. “Damn, I didn’t even think – you felt everything, didn’t you?”

     I blocked the memory before it could overwhelm me. Reliving that struggle to breathe, that helplessness knowing he was hurt so badly but just out of my reach—not something I cared to re-experience. “I can fix it, Sam. I need to fix it!” My fingers skimmed the surface of his chest again, searching for the injury, trying to soothe his pain even as my heart pounded painfully in my chest.

     “Calm down, Alex. It’s gone, I’m fine.” He gave my wrists a reassuring squeeze. “Cas healed me. I’m totally fine. See? No marks, no scars. Cas took care of it.”

     I dropped my forehead into his sternum, trying to process. He was fine. Sam was fine. He wasn’t hurting, he wasn’t in pain because of me. He was _fine._ I tucked my arms around his waist and pulled him as close as I could, trying to steady my breathing. He patted me on the back reassuringly.

     “Seriously?!” Dean’s furious shout filled the room as he slammed into the kitchen, eyes blazing. “Are you fucking kidding me, Alex?”

     Sam put up a placating hand. “Dean, calm down, it’s not—”

     I stepped out of Sam’s grasp, cold pinpricks skating up my spine as Dean turned on me with a vicious glint in his eyes.

     “I know it’s been a bad day, but hell, babe. If you were looking for a round two, all you had to do was say so.”

     “Dean, that’s enough.” Sam tossed his shirt back on and stiffened his shoulders, fists clenching.

     I just stared at Dean, unsure how to respond to the unexpected attack.

     “What, didn’t think I had it in me?”  Dean folded his arms over his chest angrily. “Or did I not perform to your standards? I should’ve known the last time I found you two together--fuck it. You go right ahead and screw Sam silly. Whatever helps you deal with stress, sweetheart.”

     “That’s _enough_!” Bobby snapped. “I don’t know what the hell is wrong with you, boy, but it’s been a cluster fuck of a day. No reason to be a spiteful jackass just for kicks.”

     Dean turned his glare on the older man. “Don’t tell me what to do, Bobby.”  
     Bobby straightened slowly, the warning in his tone escalating. “Don’t test me, boy. This is still my damn house. You need to get some air.”

     Dean started toward the doorway and Sam wordlessly tucked me behind him. Dean’s glare turned vicious. “Really, Sam? You think you have the right to protect her now? Think _I’m_ going to hurt her?”

     “You just did.”

     The silence was deafening. Dean finally met my eyes and I just stared at him, unable to form words around the gaping hole in my chest. His brutal efficiency at making what we had just shared feel meaningless left me stunned. Without a word he spun on his heel and left, slamming the front door on his way out.

     Sam turned and looked at me, eyes flinty. “I’ll go after him, Alex. I’ll bring him back, make him apologize—”

     I shook my head, making a small gesture to stop his flood of words, a dull flush filling my face as I avoided their concern.

     “That boy has the fastest temper of anyone I’ve ever seen,” Bobby muttered, coming into the kitchen and giving me an awkward pat on the shoulder. “If he thinks he’s too big for me to take a chunk out of his hide, he’s about to have another think coming.”

     I managed a shrug, swallowing roughly. “I … I think I’m going to go upstairs.” Soft words from all of them followed me to the upper level. About halfway up the stairwell the shock wore off and anger started to build. What the fuck was Dean’s problem? He had just pleaded with me to give him another chance for something I didn’t even blame him for. Had gone on and on about how everything with Stokes was all his fault … what a fucking idiot. He wanted to spin me all kinds of tales about protecting me and being there for me no matter what and then turn around and be a complete jackass? Fine by me. I had already stayed here entirely too long. My muscles started to ache as I stomped up the rest of the stairs and threw open the door of Dean’s room. Good thing I wasn’t spiteful or I’d do something stupid like slash his sheets just for the hell of it. Instead I grabbed the nearest duffle bag and threw a couple changes of clothes in it from Dean’s drawers. Cas hadn’t allowed me to bring any of my supplies when he popped me over to Bobby’s and there hadn’t been two minutes to make a supply run since I arrived. The least Dean could do was loan me some clothes. If he were standing here he would probably make some smart ass remark about how Sam’s clothes would be larger, warmer, comfier… whatever stupid ass reason he could come up with to push me away. I froze, letting that thought roll around for a moment.

     That’s what he had done. Pushed me away. Taken the very thing that had made us closer than ever and thrown it in my face. Earned my trust and respect and then stomped on it.  Damn him. What a coward. I threw the duffle bag over my shoulder and searched the top drawer until I found a loaded pistol and slid it in the back of my jeans.

     Without a backward glance, I left the room and stormed down the stairwell, anger growing with every step. “Dean Winchester!” I bellowed, passing Sam, Cas, and Bobby still standing in the doorway between the kitchen and the living room, throwing the door open with a slam. Dean was pacing farther out in the junk yard, his hair mussed like he had been running his hands through it. He looked up at my call, anger still rolling off him in waves. “Dean Winchester, you sorry son of a bitch, don’t think you can pull that shit and walk out on me!”

     He straightened, squaring up his chest as if welcoming my fury.

     I heaved the duffle up higher on my shoulder, slinging the strap across my chest so both my hands were free. I strode across the junk yard, my temper snapping viciously at him. Every inch of him was pissing me off. The pinch between his eyebrows, the angry scowl that hardened his eyes, the fact that he kept clenching his fist as if tempted to take a swing at me. I got within a few paces of him and stopped, so pissed that I could hardly find the words for a minute. “You … you coward!”

     “Oh, _I’m_ the coward?” He snarled back.

     I steamrolled on. “You think just because I gave Sam a hug—”

     “That’s the second fucking time you’ve gone straight from me to him, Alex. The second fucking time!” he snarled.

     “Are you shitting me?! He’s like my brother, Dean! He wasn’t making a move!”

     “The hell he wasn’t! At least last time he kept his damn clothes on!”

     “Why do you think I ran to Sam? You think you didn’t wring enough _noises_ out of me in the shower? Is that it?”

     “You want someone better at the touchy feely stuff then Sam is your man, I’m not going to argue!” He threw it out there like a gauntlet.

     “We left him bleeding on the basement floor! Excuse me for being fucking worried for him when I realized I might be the only one who could fix it!”

     “Oh please, Cas was right there—”

     “Cas runs off all the time! He’s left me in more shit than he’s helped me out of, and I had just nearly gotten him killed! I sure as fuck didn’t think he’d stick around!”

     “Cas doesn’t run away—”

     “He sure as hell does! He picks me up and puts me where he wants me without sticking around to help me the fuck out!” Inwardly I winced a little, knowing I didn't honestly feel that way anymore. Cas had been through hell with me and eased the worst moments of my life.

     “Lay off Cas,” he growled, stepping toward me with both hands clenched.

     “I’ll say whatever the fuck I want!”

     “Not about my family, you won’t!” Dean roared, green eyes flashing. “You want to trade in for the brother that’s not so fucked up or so damaged, that’s fine – I can’t blame you. But did you have to literally run straight from my arms to his?!” He stiffened as if fuming that he let me see that he was hurting. “I don’t know what I did to piss you off or why you went running to Sammy but I get it, okay? Fine. Go be with him! He gets emotions and all that crap. He’ll be better at all of _this_.” He gestured between us angrily. “I don’t know how to do this shit, the hard shit. That? In the shower? That’s as close to happy as I’ve ever been and that was right on the tails of easily one of the most fucked up days of my life. Yes, I was a jackass. I said some shit I shouldn’t have in the kitchen. I should probably be sorry but I’m not! You know why? I don’t want to see you with Sam. I don’t want to see him touching you. You’re _mine_. You’re _my_ Lex. And I’m pissed as hell that I tried my best and it still wasn’t enough for you. So, go run to Sam. He’ll find a way to get you both out of this life and be _normal_ with you. I’m going after Faulkner. And I’m sure as fuck taking care of Grady. I’ll make sure that you and Sam can go and live your perfect little life and never have to worry about the shit in the dark that comes after you. No matter how pissed I am at you, I can promise you _that_.”

     I slapped him. Hard. Full face, open palm, no holding back. I slapped him _hard._

     His head snapped to the side and he froze, every inch of him stock still as my handprint bloomed on his cheek.

     “ _That_ …” I hissed, moving forward until I was only inches away from him, “was for what you said in the fucking kitchen.”

     He slowly turned back to face me, teeth gritted and jaw tense.

     “This,” I pulled the duffle over my head and let it drop to the ground, “is because no matter how much of a jackass you are, I can’t imagine trying to sleep without knowing you’re there beside me now.” I pressed a furious kiss to his mouth, not even trying to soften it. I was still angry, he was still fuming, and there was no reason to try and hide it. “I can’t do this, do any of this without you.” I kissed him again, grabbing a hold of his flannel shirt and pulling him closer, making sure he made no mistake about how mad I still was. I pulled back enough to stare into his snapping green eyes, knowing that I had to make him hear this, had to make him understand the next part more than anything. “And I’m going to say this once, Dean Winchester, and you better fucking hope you never make me mad enough to say it again: you are short tempered, irritable, and quick to make judgements. You’re pushy and demanding and half the time I want to strangle you. But there is no one else in this world that is half the man you are. Sam included. You’re a warrior. You’re a fighter, and you defend the innocent with a righteousness that shines brighter than all your other flaws. I’ve known you for a month and I can’t imagine ever respecting another man more than I respect you.” I gave him a little shake, emotion riding high in my throat. “Damn it, I think I’m falling in love with you and I’m fucking _pissed_ about it right now!” I pushed him away with a shove against his chest, still so spitting mad that I was half tempted to pull out the pistol and shoot him right there. “Do you understand me, you crazy son of a bitch? Nothing was happening with Sam. _Nothing_. If you think for one second—”

     He slammed his mouth down on mine and spun me around, hiking my legs up around his waist. He kept moving forward and I scrambled to hold on beneath the onslaught until my butt hit the trunk of a car in the lot. Dean leaned forward, sliding me up the trunk until I was sitting squarely on it. “Shut up,” he ordered before dropping back to ravage my mouth. He slapped his hands down on either side of my hips and leaned forward, dropping me off balance so I had to scramble to grab hold of him. He forced his way into my mouth, dominating every inch of me. He fumbled suddenly, his hands at my jeans. I jerked back from his kiss to cast a glance at the house and Dean ran kisses all along the length of my throat.

     “Dean, they can see—”

     “I told you to shut up. And no, they can’t. There’s no direct line of sight from here to the house. Trust me.”

     I snorted, pushing up at him, trying to get some leverage to help with my jeans. He shoved my hands away and unsnapped them, dragging down the zipper. “Right, like that’s a good line right now—”

     “Shut _up_ ,” he growled, his voice raspy and growling, sending a shiver up my spine. “I’m warning you now, Lex, soft and gentle is not going to happen. I swear I’ll make it up to you, but—”

     I kissed him hard, interrupting his words. “Dean Winchester, if you aren’t inside me in the next two minutes I’m going to fucking shoot you, and that’s a promise.” I jerked the pistol out of the back of my jeans and set it on the hood with a thud.

     He lifted an eyebrow warningly and shoved me higher on the car. “Pushy, much?”

     “Damn you, Winchester, don’t fuck with me right now--!”

     He pulled my jeans off with a flourish, the warning in his eyes turning heated. “If I ever find you in Sam’s arms again—” He pressed a brutal kiss to my mouth.

     “Never going to happen. Get your head out of your ass and fuck me,” I snapped.

     With a flip of his wrist his pants were undone and suddenly he was inside me. Thick, deep, and hard, fuck was he was inside me. It was rough, his hands were on my hips and I just knew there would be bruises tomorrow but hell if I didn’t want them. I wanted his mark on me, I wanted to know he cared enough to claim me. If he ever handed me over to Sam like he had in the kitchen again I would castrate him. Dean Winchester was _mine_ and fuck him if he thought I could be with anyone else.

     His first thrust stole my breath, punched it straight out of my lungs. I grabbed a hold of the back of his head and pulled him to me for a grinding kiss. He pulled back but just enough to position me against the trunk, pushing my legs to brace my feet right beside my hips, spreading me open for his next driving stroke. He planted his forearms on either side of my head, hands buried in my hair as his green eyes flashed molten, thrusting high inside me again. He set a brutal pace, the harsh sounds of our breathing and the wet joining of our bodies the only noise in the scrap yard.

     “I won’t lose you again,” he muttered, giving a particularly rough shove inside me. “Not to Sam, not to fucking Grady, not to _anyone_. You’re _my_ Lex, you understand me?”

     I let out a raspy moan, digging my hands into his shirt as I clenched down onto him, drawing an answering groan from him. Damn, he felt amazing.  

     His forehead dropped down to my shoulder, panting as his rhythm grew erratic, the force of his snapping hips increasing. “Like it or not, baby girl, you’re _mine_.” He bit my neck, just at the sensitive crease of my shoulder and I erupted. I arched into the waves of the orgasm, a thin cry escaping me. He kept thrusting through it, his hands fisted in my hair and shoving even deeper until I could feel the warmth of his release filling me, sending aftershocks tingling through my body.

     I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and held him tight, chest pounding and sweat cooling on my skin. His heavy breaths slowly eased as the tension left his muscles. He pulled back enough to look into my eyes, one finger brushing the sweaty hair off my face. He didn’t say anything, just looked at me with eyes full of an unfathomable mix of easing frustration and longing.

     “Hey there,” I whispered, cupping his jaw and rubbing the underside of his bottom lip.

     He pressed a gentle kiss to my fingertip. “Hey.”

     “Swear they can’t see us from the house?” I teased, softening into a small smile.

     A huff of laughter escaped him. “Promise.” He straightened slowly and pulled away. I immediately ached with the loss of connection. With efficient movements he cleaned up as much as possible and tucked himself away.

     I sat up, a delicious ache in my thighs as I watched him run a hand through his short cropped hair. Damn, he was beautiful. A lick of uncertainty suddenly made me hesitate and quickly discard the idea of moving back into his space again to kiss him. We were okay now. He wasn’t walking away and I wasn’t high-tailing it out on my own. We could face anything as long as we were together. I had come through hell and survived, and we were getting ready to go hunting. Everything was going to be just fine.

     If I could only block out this uneasiness in my gut warning that the worst was still to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For some reason I was so nervous to post this chapter! It is completely the opposite direction of where I was headed when I started to write this chapter and caught me by surprise. Definitely was not expecting their first time to be like that, but can't say I'm sorry about it! lol As always, I love to hear your feedback and if you all hate it I will seriously consider redoing it. I kept trying to reroute it and somehow kept ending up back here. I promise, it will not be smut in every chapter from here on out and the plot will continue forward now, they just needed to get it out of their systems! (Or maybe *I* needed to get it out of my system haha). Love to hear your thoughts, so kudos and comment away!
> 
> *I do not own Supernatural but sure do love borrowing the beloved characters and playing in their world for a short while.*


	26. They'll Settle This

     The walk back to Bobby’s seemed entirely too short, the warmth of Dean’s hand around mine making me wish for just a few more moments with him. Yes, we had been angry. Yes, there was still a lot we had to talk about. But he was here, beside me, and that was enough.

     Dean came to a halt and I looked up to find Bobby standing on the front step, arms crossed. He was _not_ happy.

     “You all right, Alex?” He rumbled, eyes dark beneath the brim of his trucker hat as he took in the flushed handprint on Dean’s cheek and our disheveled clothes.

     “Yeah. We’re ok.” I watched him carefully, recognizing that Bobby Singer was not a man you wanted to upset. And he was furious.  

     He jerked his head toward the door. “Then you best get on inside. Sam’s about ready to take a piece out of Dean’s hide. You might want to calm him down some.”

     Dean stiffened, his grip on my hand tightening. “I can handle Sam on my own just fine, Bobby. Alex doesn’t need to do shit.”

     Bobby raised an eyebrow. “He’s loading rock salt into the shotgun and it’s not for any ghosts.”

     “I apologized to Alex. Sam doesn’t have anything to be mad about.”

     I snorted. Not that I had complaints about his ‘apology’ but I’m pretty darn sure his exact words had been ‘I’m _not_ sorry _’_.

     Bobby just rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I can see that. Apologies are when you use your words, boy.”

     I hid an embarrassed grin, rubbing absently at the mark Dean had left on my neck. 

     Dean squeezed my hand. “I don’t think she had any complaints.”

     “Well, I do.” Bobby’s voice hardened. “You disrespected her. In my house. You lost that temper of yours and accused her of some things you know a darn sight better than to believe.”

     Dean frowned, shifting on his feet.

     “You know I won’t stand for that in my home. Hell, _anywhere_. I taught you better than that. Right about the time I think I’m done raising you boys, you do something stupid.” Bobby gestured for me to come up on the porch with him and I followed without a word, recognizing this battle wasn’t mine. “Go on inside, darlin’. Dean and I need to—” 

     The door crashed open and a furious Sam came barreling out, eyes hard. “Damn it, Dean, I have something to say to you—!” He stopped short at the sight of us all right there together before setting his jaw and going straight for Dean. He launched himself off the porch and tackled him right to the ground, fists already swinging.

     “Damn it, Sam, knock it off!” I hollered, starting toward them. Bobby threw out an arm and brought me up short.

     “Let them go. They’ll settle this.”

     Furious bursts of words were coming from Sam and a fury burned bright in his hazel eyes. “Damn it – she chose _you_. You think Grady betraying her isn’t enough shit to deal with? Damn you, Dean, you _hurt_ her!”

     Dean flipped Sam and put him in a head lock, his eyes flinty. “She’s mine, Sammy.”

     Sam landed a heavy blow to Dean’s ribs and loosened his hold. “I know, you idiot!”

     “Don’t touch her,” Dean scrambled around, ducking a swing to slam a fist in Sam’s chest, “don’t look at her, and for fuck’s sake,” he snarled, landing a one-two combo that snapped Sam’s head backwards, “quit taking your damn clothes off – she’s _mine_ , Sammy.”

     I growled at them both incredulously. Bobby just shrugged and walked back into the house. Well, fuck. The pleasant buzz lingering from being with Dean completely disappeared as they rolled around in the dirt snarling threats at each other. Throwing up my hands, I strode into the house, following Bobby to the kitchen.

     He poured himself a cup of coffee and leaned against the counter, raising an eyebrow at me. “They just need to fight it out.”

     “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” I fumed. “How have they lived this long, Bobby, how? It’s a miracle they haven’t killed each other over something asinine like who got the last piece of pizza.”

     Bobby chuckled. “I’d hardly call you the last piece of pizza. But trust me, there have been some doozies. Dean threw Sam clean through the railing on the porch one time. Took them two months to rebuild it, because they were fighting so much they couldn’t decide who got the hammer.”

     I couldn’t help rolling my eyes. I absolutely believed it.

     “They’re good boys, Alex.” Bobby hesitated, pushing his hat back on his head with a sigh. “But when you fight darkness day in and day out like those two … sometimes things get a little…rough, and they’ve got to find a way to let it out.”

     I let out a hard breath. “I know, Bobby. Trust me, I know.”

     He winced a little. “I know you do. And that’s why you and Dean will be okay.” He set his coffee cup down on the counter and tugged on his beard thoughtfully. “He’s tried to do it before, you know. Be with somebody. But he always tried to keep it separate from this life, from the darkness. Tried to create this idyllic bubble where nothing bad could happen and monsters didn’t exist. But life doesn’t work that way.”

     No, it certainly didn’t. “I don’t know what ... what this thing between us is.” I sighed, sitting down at the table. “I just know when I was down in that panic room and Grady …” I stopped, took a second to clear my throat. “When Grady took that scalpel from Stokes, all I could think about, all I could hold onto was that Dean was coming. That I knew he would come. … I’ve never trusted anyone like that in my life, Bobby. Never.” The weight of that statement shook me, fear growing as I realized how deep that trust really went. When the hell had it gone from the only person who had my back was me, to knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that he would be there, that he was coming?

     He watched me carefully. “I think the only thing that could keep that boy from you now is death. And even then, Winchesters have a way of not staying dead.”

     I flashed him a small smile, rubbing my forehead. “I knew in my gut that he was coming. But Stokes – Stokes said the mess in town was an ambush. Said you both had been taken to Faulkner. What happened out there?”   

     Bobby hesitated. “Jody was in trouble. There was a group of demons stirring up trouble and she knew it wasn’t something she could handle herself. We took care of it.”

     I snorted. “That’s like the cliff notes of the cliff notes. Come on, Bobby, that was my mess. I should’ve been out there with you guys. How bad was it?”

     “That mess was on Faulkner and Faulkner alone. You can’t feel responsible for every bad thing his nest does while they hunt you, you’ll go crazy. You hear me?” He snapped. “You’re not going to be able to shoulder that load.”

     The stoniness in his eyes chilled me. Something bad had happened and he was holding back. “People died, didn’t they? How many, Bobby?”

     “It was bad, Alex,” he warned, gaze steady. “That’s all you need to know—”

     “ _How_ _many_?”

     He blinked at me slowly for a long moment before letting out a heavy breath. “Six. Six were gone before we could save them.” He picked his coffee mug back up, but didn’t move to drink it, just gripped it so tight his knuckles were white.

     I braced my elbows on the table, burying my fingers in my hair, the weight on my chest making it hard to breathe. 

     “They surrounded a school. Just teachers and kids inside. I should’ve known it was just a distraction, that they were trying to get us away from you,” he ground his teeth. “They would’ve had us. Got us separated and surrounded, no way out. If it wasn’t for Jody …” He shook his head. “It was close, Alex. It was too damn close.”

 _Six_. Six people had died for me today. Teachers. And kids. Parents would be getting a call today that their child was never coming home. That they would never grow up, never have families of their own. They would never know that their lives were just unfortunate collateral damage in a war they didn’t even know was happening. “None of them were taken, right?” Fear suddenly grabbed me by the throat. “The demons, they didn’t take any of the kids?”

     Bobby shook his head negatively. “No. They didn’t take anyone. We sent all those bastards back to hell.”

     I swallowed hard. At least there was that. No one was going through what I had. No one was stuck in a cellar with no one to save them. “Good.”

     “We can’t save everyone, Alex.” Bobby’s voice was tired. “We try, but we can’t save them all.”

     The front door slammed open and the boys came in, dirt, sweat and blood smeared everywhere. Without a word, Sam went to the freezer and pulled out the ice tray. He dumped a handful onto a towel, knotting it up efficiently before tossing it to Dean. Dean caught it and held it to his split lip with a wince. Sam made himself up one and held it to the swelling on his jaw.

     Bobby cleared his throat. “You boys get that out of your system?”

     Dean rolled his eyes, muttering as he came to stand next to my chair.

     “Yep.” Sam stretched his jaw, testing the tenderness.

     “Good. Then listen up." Bobby's voice hardened. "Dean, whatever Alex decides to do now or in the future, handle it like a man and treat her like a lady, and I don’t want to hear another word about it. What’s between the two of you stays between the two of you.” With a raised eyebrow, Bobby finally took a sip of his coffee. Dean gave a small acknowledging nod but said no more. Silence fell in the kitchen, the rustle of the ice in their shoddy ice packs the only movement.

     A horrible grating noise swelled from the door leading to the basement and I froze. “Where’s Cas?”

     Dean straightened behind me, putting a hand on my shoulder. “Alex—”

     “Where’s Cas?” I insisted, turning to Sam.

     Sam didn’t answer, his gaze bouncing to Bobby.

     “Answer me, damn it!” I shoved back from the table. “He’s down there with Grady, isn’t he? Grady’s still in the basement.”

     None of them denied it and my blood froze. How the fuck had I forgotten? It had been _hours_ – Dean and I had been … while Grady was locked in the basement, Dean and I had been _together_. Fuck me, I had just left him there. A horrible swirl of guilt and anger and betrayal consumed me. Slowly, the anger won out and a dull flush filled my face. That bastard had betrayed me. He had destroyed everything – my faith in him, my trust in my own judgement, my belief that there was something in my life that the evil couldn’t touch. It all lay in ashes around me.

     I had a score to settle and this time, it wasn’t going to be my blood spilled across the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *cracking knuckles* things are about to get messy. Any special requests for how Grady needs to be handled? Alex has her fire back and she's ready to kick some ass.
> 
> *I do not own Supernatural but sure do love borrowing the beloved characters and playing in their world for a short while.*


	27. Then You'll Understand

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another long one. This one was ... hard ... to write. It didn't quite work out the way I was anticipating, with Alex as the avenger with a swift and just punishment. It ended up quite a bit darker than I thought she had in her. So, brace yourselves. Not sure how you'll all feel about it. As always, comments and kudos are a great way to give me feedback and help keep me in the right direction. 
> 
> I would love to hear your thoughts on this one.
> 
> *I do not own Supernatural but sure do love borrowing the beloved characters and playing in their world for a short while.*

       “Get out of my way, Dean.” I gritted out, facing him down at the door to the basement.

       “There’s nothing for you down there. We have it handled.”

       “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Dean didn’t answer, just set his jaw stubbornly and I spun to look at Sam who avoided my gaze. I growled, “Somebody better answer me!”

       Bobby set his cup on the counter, straightening to his full height. “It means that you never need to see that little shit again. We’ll handle it.”

       I bristled. “Grady is here because of me. He hurt Sam and Cas because of _me._ _I_ need to settle this.”

       “Consider it settled.” Dean insisted, crossing his arms and squaring himself up to block the entire doorway. “He’ll never come near you again. We’ll make damn sure he suffers for what he did to you.” His eyebrows pinched stubbornly. “I don’t want you down there, Alex.”

       My eyebrows flew to my hairline. “ _You_ don’t want me down there?” I echoed in disbelief, a low lick of anger starting to grow. “Dean, I don’t know what you think has changed in the past twenty-four hours, but in no way has it affected my ability to make my own decisions. I don’t take orders from you.”

       “Don’t push me on this, Alex,” he growled, green eyes heating up.

       Deliberately, I put a hand on his chest and gave him a shove, lifting my chin in challenge. The heat between us flared and he grabbed my wrist, pulling me in until there was only a breath between us and his words came out gritty and low. “Don’t fuck with me, Alex. If you don’t want to end up spread on top of that table with me showing you just how well you can take orders in about thirty seconds, you better stand down.”

       Just that fast heat pooled low in my belly. “What, seeing me angry do it for you, Winchester?”

       He growled so low I could feel the sound in my chest. “You have no fucking idea.”

       Bobby snorted, the abrupt sound breaking the tension. “Is this how you two are going to settle all your disagreements now?”

       “Hell, I hope not,” Sam grumbled, looking away uncomfortably.

       Sam’s discomfort cooled my reaction to Dean’s threat and I took an intentional step back, pulling out of his grasp. “Unfortunately, your cave man impression doesn’t do it for me, baby. Get out of my way.”

       “Alex…” he warned.

       I sucked in a measured breath, determined to get something through his thick skull. “This isn’t about you, Dean. My family is down there. My history – hell, everything I held tight to my entire life is in that basement.” I shook my head, stopping the outraged denial I could see building in his eyes. “But all of those things have been destroyed by the same person that created them. Grady didn’t just turn coward, he’s taken _everything_ \-- my home, my family, and every memory I have of our life together now is tarnished.” My fingers curled into fists. “I was able to fight in that cellar because I thought there was something to fight for. He took that from me, Dean, he _took_ it and nothing is ever going to be the same.”

      “There are still things worth fighting for,” he rasped. “There are still good things out there, things the darkness hasn’t touched—”

       “But they aren’t _my_ good things.” I pressed a hand to his jaw, tracing the creases on either side of his mouth as he clenched his jaw in frustration. “You’re trying to protect me from something that has already happened.” I glanced at Bobby and Sam. “I need to do this. I need some answers that only Grady can give me. I need to settle this or it will haunt me the rest of my life.”

       Dean grimaced, conflicting emotions in his eyes.

       “Please, Dean. I need this.”

       Frustration in every line of his body, Dean let out a harsh breath and stepped away from the door.

       “If you’re going down there, we’re all coming too.” Sam spoke up. “You’re not alone in this, Alex.”

       Bobby straightened his hat. “That’s for damn sure. And let’s get one thing straight, little lady – your family is not gone. The one you had was pretty shitty anyway, if you ask me. But your family, your _real_ family, is right here in this room. If you’re here with us or a thousand miles away, that’s not going to change.”

       I swallowed hard, unable to form a response.

       He gave a sharp nod before moving past me to open the door, releasing the scent of blood and sour sweat. “Whatever that piece of shit says, Alex, don’t let him get to you. You make him pay for what he’s done. If you don’t want to get your hands dirty you just say the word and we’ll all take that pleasure off your hands.”

       “As far as I’m concerned you have two options,” Dean grunted. “Beat the shit out of him or just kill him. Fuck answers. Nothing he can say is going to make him anything more than a spineless bastard.”

       He had a point. All I knew was that I needed to look in his eyes one more time, make peace with the fact that the Grady I knew no longer existed and then make sure that the threat to my new family was eliminated. What that actually looked like was anyone’s guess. I just knew I wanted to make him pay for what he did, for the pain he brought Sam and Cas and the desolation that swept over me every time I thought about him. I felt like my anchor was gone, like my understanding of the world was irrevocably damaged.           

       “Let’s do this.”            

       Grady was tied to a chair out in the open part of the basement, a single lightbulb lit directly above him. His nose was broken and both eyes were beginning to bruise. He heard our footsteps coming down the stairs and he raised his head, relief stark in his swollen eyes. “Aly! You have to help me, make him stop—!”

       The guttural plea rendered me motionless as Bobby, Sam and Dean fanned out behind me to take up watch from each corner of the dark room. I just stared at him, emotions churning high as he thrashed against the ropes.

       “Aly, _please_!”

       “Shut up, worm.” Cas snapped, looming in the shadows. He glanced up at me and his blue eyes were lit with fire. “My time is not up yet, why are you interrupting?”

       “Your time?” I echoed, Grady’s pitiful whimpers starting to grate on my nerves already.

       Bobby spoke up. “We were taking shifts. Sam had him first. Cas second, me third and Dean last.”

       “We all knew I wouldn’t leave him breathing.” Dean growled from the darkness, just out of sight over my left shoulder.

       I raised an eyebrow. “How very diplomatic.”

       Sam straightened to his full height, his head nearly brushing the wooden supports for the floor above. “Cas obviously repaired him some. He wasn’t able to talk when I finished.”

       Three accusing stares turned on the angel and he shrugged. “I had some questions I wanted answered. I also had to heal the bullet wound in his back or he would’ve died much too peacefully.”

       “Find out anything interesting?” Bobby murmured, pulling a tool chest out of the darkness and fiddling idly with the hammer resting on top.

       “Aly, _please_ – how can you let them do this to me?” Grady whimpered.

       I stiffened, the tsunami of emotions inside me abruptly going crystal calm. Fury, white hot and invigorating burned through my entire body in a moment. “Excuse me?”

       “We’re _family_ , you can’t let them do this to me!”

       I strode toward him, anger eclipsing all thought. I slammed my hands down on top of his on the armrests, hearing the bones grind as he cried out. “You son of a bitch! You _ruined_ me. You gave me up to protect Clarissa. You let them _rape_ me because they threatened her. Words, Grady. They threw _words_ at you and you turned me over to them like it was nothing. Like _I_ was nothing. Don’t you fucking dare call me family and ask me to save you.”

      “It wasn’t my fault! What was I supposed to do—?”

      “You were supposed to _fight_!” I snarled. “Stokes handed you the knife in there—” I pointed a shaking hand to the panic room where the door was still open and my blood still coated the floor, “—and you didn’t even blink. Did you even _consider_ turning it on him?”

      Grady stared at me, shocked as if my anger were unexpected.

      “Did you even think about fighting back, about refusing to come here and flush me out? What happened, Grady -- help me _understand,_ ” I spit at him, “how the conversation went in New York. What was their opening line?”

       Grady swallowed. “I’m not going to do this with you, Aly.”

      “You don’t fucking have a choice,” I hissed venomously. “You’re afraid of Cas? Of Sam? You want to beg me to make them stop? Fine. You got your wish. You don’t have to deal with them now, you have to deal with _me._ ” I marched to Bobby and his tool chest, throwing the top drawer open to find a wide variety of screwdrivers in a tidy row. I grabbed the largest before slamming the drawer closed again. Locking my jaw against what I was about to do, I jerked to a halt in front of Grady, staring down at him with fury spinning tightly around the betrayal poisoning my gut. “I learned a lot of things from them, Grady. From the _demons_ who held me. There were vampires too, did you know that?”

       He flinched away from the venom in my voice. “I didn’t know they were going to hurt you so bad, Aly–”

      “Don’t peddle that bullshit to me.”

      “Come on, are you seriously going to stand there and tell me you’re fine with all this? Sam broke my _jaw_ , Aly.” Grady glared at the looming outline of Sam in the darkness as if expecting me to take up for him.

      “If I didn’t want answers, I’d let him do it again,” I hissed.

      “How can you say that?” Grady cried out. “It’s _me_ , Aly. We’ve grown up together, spent our whole lives together—”

      “Shut the hell up,” I snarled. “I don’t know what happened to you in the past three years but the Grady I knew would never have done this. Never would have turned me over to them.”

      “I was trying to _help you_!” Grady cried, pulling at the ropes again. “Why don’t you understand that? You want to know what happened? Fine! A man stopped me one day, said he knew you. Showed me a picture of you. You were in the hospital, Aly, and you were almost _dead_. He said you had a concussion, three busted ribs and you had broken your spine. You had _broken your spine_ , Aly!” Breaths panted out of him, and he narrowed his swollen eyes at me. “It made the news because everyone was shocked – they could’ve sworn they saw a little girl get hit by the semi and you were the first to the scene. But somehow when the ambulance arrived, you were the one hurt and the little girl walked away without a scratch. This man said he knew what had really happened, that there were other healers out in the world like you. But he said you disappeared. As soon as the story hit the news you came up missing from the hospital. He was concerned, said he knew that you were alone and trying to heal. They only knew we were connected because I messed up and put you as the emergency contact for our apartment lease with your last known address. One stupid mistake and God I wish I had never done it. I could’ve put _anyone_ down as that contact—”

       “What happened then?” Dean bit out, fury rolling off him in waves, his gravelly voice even more threatening in the darkness.

       I was still, my hands sweating around the weapon in my clenched fist as dull memories became clear, rushing to the forefront of my mind. I _had_ broken my spine. Or rather, the little girl had and I had taken it from her. She would’ve died within moments if I hadn’t healed her. She couldn’t have been more than five. Bright blue eyes, curly blond hair. She had been chasing a butterfly and hadn’t seen the truck coming. I hadn’t realized the full extent of her injuries until I was laying broken on the pavement and realized I couldn’t get up, couldn’t get away from the strangers surrounding me. Couldn’t avoid the attention as they started snapping pictures and calling the hospital.

       Grady swallowed hard, eyes beseeching. “They didn’t know where you were. He said they had a specialty department for people like you, that they could help you heal _yourself_. That they just had to find you and they could _help_.”

      “What a load of bullshit. None of that sounded fishy to you?” Bobby snapped.

      “Of course it did,” Grady spit blood off to the side. “I wouldn’t tell them anything at first, none of it made any sense.”

      “Someone shows you pictures of her in the hospital with a broken spine, and you know she’s out there hurting and _helpless_ , and you have a healthy sense of skepticism and ignore it?” Dean growled. “Damn you to hell, you spineless bastard—”

      “I was in New York! What was I supposed to do about it?” Grady cried.

      “You’re a selfish son of a bitch,” I snarled. “You have no idea what I’ve been through for you, what I’ve protected you from our whole lives.”

      He rolled his eyes. “Please.”

      “Show some respect for her or I’ll dig those eyes right out of your head,” Sam growled.

      Grady froze, clearly acquainted with Sam’s threats.

      “What happened next?” Bobby pressed.

      Grady shot a cautious look in Sam’s direction. “I told him I didn’t know where you were, didn’t know how to find you. But he came back that night, scared Clarissa to death. They said they were going to find you one way or another and that it made no difference to them if Clarissa lived or died. They just wanted you. So I – I told him where I thought you would go. Nothing more than the city, Aly, I swear. I don’t know how they found you from that, but—”

      “It was enough. They found me,” I murmured gutturally. “A demon possessed me and walked me straight into a cellar. I locked _myself_ into a pair of handcuffs.” I laughed hollowly, moving close until I was only a breath away from his face, staring into the darkness of his familiar eyes. “I was there, in my thoughts watching the whole thing, screaming out for him to stop. He spoke and his words were mine, in _my_ voice. He said that he was in control now, that whatever or whoever I had been before was gone and that I was nothing but a meat suit for him to torture and I better get used to it. He told me how he likes pain, how he loves to slowly destroy the bodies he takes over. He dug his claws into me, letting me feel it, feel the pain and the blood beneath my touch, knowing I could do nothing to stop it. That was the first day, Grady. The first of one hundred and five. Dean put eighty-six stitches in that shoulder alone. Do you have any idea how often that demon took me over? How often he used my own body to hurt me?” My voice broke and I slammed my fist into his face. He choked, trying to pull away from me and I punched him again, harder. “I didn’t want to be found. I was hiding for a _reason_. Damn you, Grady, you have no idea what I went through!” Over and over I hit him with a bare knuckled fist until a broad hand pulled at my shoulder, pulled me back with a gentle pressure. Bobby pulled me into his shoulder for a moment and I realized that my face was wet with tears.

       “Easy, darlin’. Take a breath. You’re hurting yourself.”

       I stared at my hands, at the bloody knuckles. I stared at them hard, my emotions rioting wildly as I tried to stay on top of the memories, tried to keep them from pulling me under.

       “I didn’t know, Aly, you have to understand that I didn’t know what would happen! I was trying to _he—”_

“If you tell me one more fucking time that you were trying to help me I will let put this screwdriver straight through your kneecap.” I swore, shoving the tears from my face angrily and pulling away from Bobby. “I learned all kinds of things, Grady. I learned what the difference is between pain and agony. I learned what it felt like to have skin _peeled_ from my body. I learned that if you get stabbed with a _sharp_ knife it’s a blessing, it’s the dull ones that will rip you apart.” I flipped the larger screwdriver in my hand, making sure he could see the dull flat head on it. “You’re asking me to pity you because Sam and Cas got a little rough? I don’t fucking think so.”

       “God, Aly, I’m _sorry_! Is that what you want? I’m _sorry_!”

      “No you aren’t.” I ground out, looming closer to him, casting a shadow over him so all I could clearly see was the darkness rimming his bloodshot eyes. “You know how I know that? Because they came back for you. They found you and Clarissa again in New York. Asked you to flush me out _again_. Ruffled Clarissa’s feathers _again_ so that you could feel like a man instead of a cowardly bastard, make you feel like you’re saving your girl instead of serving me up again. But they told you more this time. They told you that they had me for months. Told you that they were hurting me because I wouldn’t heal for them. And you still came. Not to save me but to save _yourself_.”

       Blood dripped down the side of his face as he stared at me, and slowly _finally_ the illusion of emotion left his eyes to be replaced by unrepentant defiance. He dropped the pretense of begging and he straightened painfully in the chair, ropes creaking against the strain. “Well isn't this a surprise. You always were such a bleeding heart that I thought I could convince you that our relationship still meant something. See if you still felt enough for me that you’d let me out of here.”

       My heart stuttered, the stench of darkness suddenly pervading the room and making my stomach roll.

       “To be honest, I was amazed how quickly you were to welcome me into this house. I thought it would be a lot harder to convince you that good ol’ Grady was just a helpless chump being led around by the balls by some unexpected text message. But you were so desperately happy just to see me again--”

       “When did it change? When did you turn on me?” I flattened my tone, unwilling to give him even an inch of emotion.

       Grady laughed, the sound so familiar that something shattered inside me. “It changed with Clarissa. She showed me what you really are. She showed me how trying to keep your secrets would kill us both. That we were better off without you in our lives. I always thought you were the hero, this magical healer in a world where bad things happen to everyone. But Clarissa showed me how bad things started happening to me _after_ you. You always hated her, you never accepted her as part of my life. But she was so right. You thought I never knew about the monsters that came after us, the shadows that came to life. I knew. I never knew what it felt like to be hunted until you were a part of my life _._

       “After I told Stokes where to find you that first time, he swore I was done, that they would never bother us again. But they came back, said that someone was holding Stokes captive and had taken you out of the facility. Said that you were halfway through the treatment and that it was slowly killing you but you were too stubborn to go back. They needed me to come convince you to go back, and get Stokes out so he could return you to them. They threatened Clarissa and said if I didn’t help this time that they would never leave us alone, that they would just keep hounding us until things got violent. They said there was no reason for it to get to that point. Clarissa was the one to point out that your stubbornness was causing all the problems, that if you had just accepted becoming a Chinuitor and being their healer that they would never have come back. So yes, I came back to free Stokes. I came back to turn you over to them again. Was it convenient that I could call it chivalrous and say I wanted to save your life? That leaving you untreated would eventually kill you?” He shrugged negligently. “Sure, that’s nice. To be honest I don’t care what happens to you. I just wanted Stokes and his cronies out of my life permanently.”

       My knuckles went white around the screwdriver. “Answer me this. If I were to hand you a knife and say if you can kill me, you’ll walk out of here free, would you do it?”

       Grady just looked at me, his eyes an unfathomable swirl of darkness. “Completely free? None of your mess would come near me again?”

       Everything inside me froze, turning brittle. I simply nodded.

       “Absolutely. I’d even do it with a dull screwdriver if I had to.”

       I stared at him, this stranger with my friend’s face as betrayal exploded in my chest. “All right then. This the screwdriver you want to use to dispose of your excess baggage? You can have it!” I stared right into his eyes as I slammed the screwdriver into the back of his hand. His roar of pain was nothing more than the echo of the cry in my soul. I pulled in a furious breath and withdrew the screwdriver with a sucking grind. “After all, you were the one who told me that the pain _doesn’t matter_ as long as it makes you stronger, right?”

       Grady strained toward me with an angry bellow. “I took care of you! I fed you, I clothed you, and this is what I get?! Damn you! This is your mess, Aly! I was glad to be rid of your constant mistakes biting me in the ass!”

       “Damn it, Alex, _enough_!” Dean bellowed. “I’m not doing this! I won’t watch you destroy yourself trying to find some shred of human decency in him. I won’t!” Dean strode out of the darkness and took the screwdriver from my nerveless fingers, slapping a serrated knife the size of my forearm in it instead. “Finish this! If you won’t, then I will! This ends _now_!”

       I stared at the knife, its edge as rough and sharp as the breaths I was struggling to pull into my lungs. It was gone, it was all gone. I had always believed the best in Grady, given him the benefit of the doubt no matter the circumstance. I had fought everyone and everything that threatened that core belief in him for our entire lives. I thought I had obtained the family I wanted, the unwavering friendship, the love and support I needed – I had pretended that Grady was all of those things. But he was nothing. He was a puff a smoke that had never truly existed, the illusion of him so much more devastating in its loss.

       I shifted the knife to my left hand and gripped the hilt more tightly, watching impatience grow in Grady’s eyes as a fury and devastation spiraled and grew in my chest. “You mock me for believing in you, for trusting you -- I _loved_ you, Grady, you were everything to me. And now … you’re _nothing_.” I slammed my fist into his chest, forcing my energy into the flesh and bone and sinew in front of me, half expecting to feel the answering pain in my own. But I felt nothing. No pain, no mirrored injury, just a soul deep ache for something that had never been.

       Grady gurgled, bloody bubbles frothing at his mouth as I drove the jagged energy even deeper, feeling the twisted light and darkness inside me writhing together to tear apart his muscles and organs. It forced its way inside him, more intrusive than if I had used the knife, leaving a gaping hole that started pumping his lifeblood out right in front of me. “Look in my eyes, Grady, and know that if you ever come after any of us again, this is just a taste of what I’ll do to you.”

       He gurgled for a long moment more before his eyes drooped and his head fell forward limply. I threw the knife to the side and knelt in front of him, still locked eye to eye even as the life began fading from his. “I want you to live with what you’ve done. You don’t understand yet, but Faulkner will hunt down Clarissa. You failed the mission he gave you and he _will_ kill her. He’ll burn your whole world down around you, Grady, and only then will you understand what you’ve taken from me.”

       I shifted forward, putting my hand on Grady’s forehead. A sickening darkness filled me and his roiling emotions poured straight into my veins before slowly fading out. I felt the life fading from him, every breath shallower than the last. Nausea nearly bent me double but I pushed through it, focusing all of my attention on where my fingers were pressed against him. I did it, one painstaking cell at a time, reversing the lethal damage I had caused. I left the torn muscles and ligaments but knit the fabric of his organs, ensuring they would continue pumping life into his pathetic body. The pain of being alive would be excruciating for a long time to come.

       Slowly, his swollen eyes opened and he looked up at me, confusion and fear filling his heartless gaze as he felt me working inside his body.

      “I want you to know something, Grady. Understand that I have the power to make your body tear itself apart. I can sever your every nerve. I can leave everything else functioning but I can make the rest of your life a living hell. I left you some reminders just in case you’re tempted to forget.” I patted his chest roughly and he whimpered, a sound of agony that should have brought me satisfaction. “I also have the power to keep you alive as long as I want. Hell, Stokes even thought I could bring people back from the dead. You can never escape me if I want to find you. There’s nowhere you can hide that I won’t track you down now. I’ve been inside your body, Grady, I know your DNA. _You can’t hide from me_. I’m giving you one chance. Just one. Go back to Clarissa. Enjoy the time you have together while you can. She deserves better than the sniveling coward that you are, but she doesn’t deserve to lose the love of her life. If I _ever_ see you again…” I let the threat hang. I straightened and took a long look at him, feeling nothing. He blinked up at me, his mind sluggishly trying to process despite the pain. “Don’t take this as a sign of weakness, Grady.” I held out my pointer finger and lightly tapped each of the fingers on his left hand, hearing them break beneath my feather light touch. A high pitched scream dragged out of Grady and he threw himself back in the ropes, trying to pull away from me, trying to pull back his mangled fingers as his eyes rolled whitely against the pain. “I want you to live. And I want you to suffer. You hurt Sam, and you nearly killed Cas. You also took something very precious from me. I want you to live until the same has happened to you. _Then_ you’ll understand hopelessness. _Then_ you’ll understand how life is a curse instead of a gift. _Then_ you’ll understand what I went through for you because I believed in you. Go home to Clarissa, Grady.”

       I stepped back and turned to find Cas in the darkness. “Get him home, Cas. He won’t be able to do it on his own.”

       Cas nodded silently, his blue eyes cautious.

       “Alex, are you … all right?” Sam watched me from the darkness.

       Of course not. I would never be all right again.


	28. Always Another Battle Ahead

       The nightmares were back.

       Not that they had ever really gone away. But I had slept so little since Cas had brought me to Bobby’s that I hadn’t had a full-blown nightmare in a while and I had forgotten the terror of snapping awake and not recognizing your surroundings. My nightmares were more memories, really, but the shadows were darker, the pain was sharper, and even knowing that it was a nightmare couldn’t pull me out of it. I relived Grady cutting me apart for the third time before I gave up. Dean had forced me to sleep in his room, stating that his bed was as good as any and that sleep was sleep. My arguments for my own space fell on deaf ears and Bobby flat out told me that I wasn’t allowed to sleep anywhere else, that he would feel better if Dean were right there just in case I ‘needed’ someone. What was Dean supposed to do? Hold my hand? Make it all better? What had happened, had happened. None of it was going to change. Slowly, quietly, I got out from between the sweat soaked sheets and got to my feet. Dean stirred restlessly but didn’t wake, the dim light from the window highlighting the exhaustion in every line of his face. My thrashing couldn’t have done him any favors.

       I made my way down to the kitchen and prowled restlessly, not sure what I was after. I tried to make myself a snack but nothing sounded appetizing and the milk had soured in the fridge. I winced with every small noise I made, dreading waking anyone up. Small talk was far beyond my capabilities at the moment. I wandered around the house aimlessly, even tried to read a book but only made it a few pages before losing interest. Eventually I found myself heading down the creaking steps to the basement, the shadows actually seeming less terrifying than in my dreams. Cas had long since taken Grady back to New York but the chair and bloody ropes were right where we had left them. I clicked all of the lights on and settled on the floor crossed legged in front of the empty chair, finally letting my thoughts free from the cage I had been trying to contain them in.

        _“I was glad to be rid of your constant mistakes biting me in the ass!”_

_“Absolutely. I’d even do it with a dull screwdriver if I had to.”_

_“Look at what they did to me, Grady, and tell me it doesn’t matter…”_

_“I never knew what it felt like to be hunted until you were part of my life.”_

_“He’s never given me a reason to doubt him…”_

_“Sometimes family hurts you the worst.”_

Around and around they went until I lurched to my feet, the restless energy crawling beneath my skin, anxious to find an outlet. I almost wished that Bobby hadn’t cleaned the panic room already, that I could immerse myself in removing all signs of blood from the room where my world had come crashing down. But it was pristine now, no signs of the chaos that had happened within. It made me wonder suddenly what all the room had been through, what battles it had weathered. I prowled around the basement and stumbled upon a few full bottles of Jack and a punching bag set up in the far corner. A pair of well-worn gloves were on the shelf next to the liquor and I filed away the small insight into Bobby Singer. He was all heart and had raised two good men but something about the shadows in his eyes said there was a lot more to him than met the eye. His small corner of liquor and stress relief gave me one more piece to his puzzle.

       I opened one of the bottles and chugged a fair amount of it, relishing the acidic burn in the back of my throat. As a rule, I rarely drank alcohol. I had demanded a beer from Sam while trying to hide my heat from Grady but besides that I hadn’t had alcohol in over a year. I didn’t like how it dulled my senses and made things murky after a while. But tonight I wanted the murkiness, I wanted to dull the constant ache in my chest and the words that circled around and around in my head. I wanted to flush Grady from my life, to somehow break the chokehold he still had on me. Hell, I felt so alone.

       I welcomed the haze starting as I took a test swing at the punching bag and it rocked lightly. I bounced on my toes and stretched my arms up over my head, anticipating the release of the anxious energy winding me up. I started with small jabs, getting a feel for the swing and the heft of the punching bag. The crunch of my knuckles against the vinyl was satisfying and a small burst of endorphins started the battle against the darkness inside. It wasn’t long before sweat broke on my body only to rapidly cool in the dank air of the basement. I quickly shifted to right/left combos, relishing the impact of each strike, craving the jolt against my muscles and the strain in my shoulders. Harder and harder I slammed my fists into the punching bag, Grady’s words still circling in my brain, seeming louder and louder over the sound of my fists smacking into the vinyl. I pushed through when my muscles started to shake, when the sweat started to run into my eyes. Harder, I just needed to hit _harder_ and the endorphins would take over, forcing the stifling darkness to lift _._

       “Alex!” Dean was suddenly pressed against my back and wrapping his arms tight around my chest, grabbing hold of my forearms to stop my constant momentum. “What the hell are you doing?!”

       “Damn it, Dean, let me go! Let _go_!” I heaved for breath, struggling to break his hold.

       He wrestled around my flailing but held his grip tight, growling in my ear. “Stop! Just, stop it! You’re breaking your hands, Alex, _stop_!”

       Gradually my heartbeat stopped pounding in my ears and I tore my gaze from the wildly swinging punching bag. There was early morning light coming in the basement windows. _Light_. That meant I had been down here for six hours, at least. Cool air brushed my sweat soaked skin and made a chill skitter down my spine. Now that I had stopped moving every muscle in my body was quivering, barely able to hold me up.

       “Heal them,” Dean barked. “Right now. Heal your hands, _now_.”

       I slammed my head back into his jaw and he dropped me with a curse. “Leave me alone, Dean!”

       “No, Alex, look at yourself! How long have you been down here?”

       I used the heel of my hand to brush the sweat from my forehead, hissing when the salt got into my raw knuckles. “Not long enough.”

       “What are you trying to prove? That you’re tough? That that bastard can’t break you? Look at your hands, Alex. _You_ are breaking you. You’re better than this, stronger—”

       “I’m not strong!” I roared, pushing against him, trying to make some space, trying to reach for some air.

       “Yes, you are!” Dean shouted back.

       I shoved past him, reaching for the unopened bottle of Jack on the shelf.

       “Stop it, Alex, look at me. _Look at me!_ ” He bellowed and I curved away from the sound, all of my defenses feeling stripped bare. I yanked the top off the bottle and tipped it bottoms up. He let me get a healthy swallow down my throat before jerking it out of my hands faster than I could blink. “You want to go down this road? Fine. I’ll be right there with you.” He took a healthy swig and slammed the bottle down on the shelf hard enough it shattered. “Damn it!” He shook his hand free of the glass and sucked angrily at a cut on the palm of his hand.

       Furious, I grabbed his hand to inspect the cut. It was deep, probably needed a few stitches. With a snarl about his stupidity I focused the whirlwind of emotion inside me on closing up the jagged tear. A low warmth finally broke through the compulsive energy and something inside me finally eased as the wound fully healed. As soon as I let him go, Dean pushed back into my personal space. “Damn it, Lex, look at me _._ ”

       Slowly, reluctantly, I pulled my gaze up to his.

       “What the hell are you doing down here?”

       “I couldn’t sleep.” I lifted my chin belligerently.

       “So you beat the shit out of your hands?” He growled, bracing my face in his palms and rubbing the sweat out of my eyes with a surprisingly tender touch. “Shit, baby, why didn’t you wake me up? I could’ve helped—”

       “Helped what, Dean?” I snarled. “The nightmares? What are you going to do, wake me up every time I whimper? Neither of us would ever sleep again. It’s there in my dreams, Dean, all of it. Every second of my captivity. While I was on my own, you know what I did? The nightmares would come and I would wake up shaking and screaming, and all I had to do was remember that Grady was out there. That he was living a perfectly normal life completely oblivious to the things crawling in the dark. That he probably went to work every day and spent his days complaining about the high cost of living in New York City.” A desperate laugh escaped me. “I just had to remember that Grady loved me and thought about me and was there for me for me if I needed him. But none of that was real. That Grady never existed. There’s nothing now, Dean. I wake up from the nightmares and there’s only more darkness.” A laughing sob tore from my chest and I curled my fingers into his shirt, dully aware of the throbbing in my broken hands. “Damn it, Dean, I don’t know what to do. The darkness isn’t just something surrounding me anymore, something I have to fight through. It’s deep inside my soul and fuck, Dean, I hurt him. I _killed_ him. I tore him apart with my bare hands—”

       “You didn’t kill him,” he objected fiercely. “He’s not dead, Alex. You let him live which is far more than he deserves.”

       “Don’t you understand? It’s not about _him_! _I_ did those things to him, _I_ broke things inside him on purpose, knowing it would hurt him the rest of his life. I _wanted_ him to hurt but all it did was make me ache inside. And now—” I stared into his eyes, unable to hide the desolateness that overwhelmed me. “Now I don’t know how to stop hurting. I don’t know how to make this pain go away.”

       He pressed his eyes closed, leaning his forehead to mine. “Breathe in.” He dragged in a deep breath, chest expanding. “Then you breathe out.” He let it out slowly, his breath mingling with mine. “Then in.” I mimicked his pattern, tilting up into his embrace as his words whispered across my face. “Then out, Lex. _That’s_ how you handle it. The pain never really goes away. It’s constant, like knowing there’s always another battle ahead.” He stroked the side of my face, his thumb tracing my cheekbone. “But you can learn to exist in it, to keep it from overwhelming you. You can use it when you start to feel numb. The pain tells you that you’re alive in the darkness. And once you learn to use it, to force the pain to make you stronger, then it doesn’t seem so … _big_.”

       I pressed closer to him, letting the beat of his heart guide my breaths.

       “But don’t ever forget why you’re fighting. You’ve got to hold tight to that reason with everything you’ve got. I fight because of my mom. She’s been gone for most of my life but I remember what it was like when she was around. There was always lots of pie and she would dance around to the Beatles.” I felt his fleeting smile against my hairline. “But after she was gone my dad was never the same. He started teaching us how to hunt soon after that. He wanted to go after the thing that killed her but had to teach us to defend ourselves while he was gone. I don’t think he meant for us to have this life, but it was the only way he knew to keep us safe. He was a great hunter, my dad.” A fierceness welled up in his words.

       “He taught me everything,” Dean stated firmly. “Dad showed me firsthand how hunters are the only line of defense against evil. They see the darkness for what it really is, and they’re strong enough to face things other people can only whisper about. Hunters are all that’s out there to protect people, Alex, and that’s what you did – everything that happened with Grady was because you didn’t want anyone else to get hurt because of him. You’re a hunter, baby, not by choice but by necessity. Taking down Grady doesn’t make you part of the darkness, it just means you’re through another brush with it and are still standing.”

       I held tight to him, wrapping my arms around his waist so I could tuck my face even deeper into his chest. His words swept around me, pushing out Grady’s venom, pushing away the cloud of desolation surrounding me. I tipped my forehead to his chin and he pressed another soft kiss there.

       He hummed and the soft sound sank into me comfortingly. “You got this, baby girl. But we can stand stronger together than alone. Let me help you shoulder this, let me help you fight.”

       I pressed a feather light kiss to the base of his throat. “I don’t know how to rely on someone like that, but I’ll try. For you, I’ll try.”

       We stood there for a long time, just leaning into each other in the dank basement as the morning light grew stronger. When Dean finally broke the silence, his voice was rough. “Sam and I have a system for the nights like you just had. We’ve all been there and Sammy is just obnoxious when he gets moody.” A small smile curled his lips and I stepped back, the warmth of the sunlight finally seeming to reach my skin.

       He rolled his eyes and ran his fingers through my hair. “I usually do just fine but Sam said he needed _outlets_ when he gets stressed so we came up with our system. When one of us is getting burned out, we spar. We fight until one of us can’t get up or taps out.”

       I couldn’t stop a small huff of laughter at the simplicity of his statement. “That sounds like a horrible coping mechanism.”

       He arched an eyebrow in challenge. “It works for us. Sam said he’d rather we spar between us than take it out on some douchebag in a bar. Some nonsense about bar fights getting expensive. I think it might help you, Alex, and it sure wouldn’t hurt to brush up your fighting skills.”

       I pulled in a big breath and let it out, grabbing hold of lightheartedness with a vicious grip. “You saying you don’t think I could take you?”

       His eyes lit with the spark of relief. “I’m saying let’s see what you’re made of.” He pulled back and tapped the sides of my wrists, his brow pinching. “But first, fix your hands. And if I ever see you tear them up like that again I’ll paddle your ass, you understand me?” Steel underlined his statement and I couldn’t hold back a smirk.

       “Promise?”

       Just that fast his eyes lit with heat. “Oh, that’s a promise, all right.”

       I licked my lips slowly, watching his eyes darken. I healed my hands quickly, erasing all signs of the damage I’d caused before placing my palm on his chest. His muscles jumped beneath the light caress and I hummed low in my throat, enjoying the heavy thud of his heart. “So, what do I get if I win?”

       His gaze zeroed in on my mouth. “Not going to happen, sweetheart.”

       “But if I do, what will you give me?” I bit down on my lip and his pupils went wide.

       “… I can give you all kinds of things, baby girl. What do you want?” His voice was a low rasp.

       I leaned in, pausing when only a breath of air was between our lips. “I want the keys to Baby.”

       He reared back, the warm tension between us evaporating. “My car? No way. Hell no. I barely even let Sam drive her and he lives in the damn thing.”

       “Aw come on, I just want to take her for a spin. It will help me deal with stress, Dean,” I blinked up at him earnestly and he threw back his head and laughed, sending a bolt of warmth through my body.

       “Nope. Not happening. You aren’t going to win anyway, so it’s a moot point.”

       “Well, what do you want when _you_ win then?” I couldn’t hold back a smile as I watched him move away from me, energy starting to thrum in my veins.

       He shrugged out of his outer layer of flannel and threw it carelessly over the railing to the steps. “I haven’t decided yet.”

       “Somehow I have a feeling that you’ll come up with some good ideas while we spar. Just a hunch.” I shrugged at him playfully and he grinned even wider.

       “Somehow, I think you might be right.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love to hear your thoughts and reactions! Kudos and comments make my day!
> 
> *I do not own Supernatural but sure do love borrowing the beloved characters and playing in their world for a short while.*


	29. Tattoo

       The darkness wasn’t gone, but it was better.

       Dean wrapped an arm around my chest and threw all his weight to one side, forcing me to tumble with him in a graceless flop. I grunted, shoving off the ground with my legs to get enough leverage I could fight his grip. He shifted, knocking my legs out from beneath me with a well-placed kick and dodging away from my flailing attempt at a punch. He spun us until he was pressed all along my back and had me boxed in on my hands and knees. He hooked his arms beneath mine and jerked my elbows out from beneath me and I dropped face first into the floor, despite his last minute attempt to buffer the impact. I snarled, slamming my fist into the floor.

       “We had a deal, those hands need to take it easy today.” Dean ordered, flipping sweat out of his eyes.

       “Yeah well, I need to quit getting my ass handed to me and then maybe I’ll consider it.”

       Dean snorted, dancing a little on his toes. “You’re not doing _that_ bad.”

       “Sixteen times, Dean. You’ve won sixteen times.” I shoved back to my hands and knees, fighting the urge to take a cheap shot as he came within reach.

       “Aw, you just aren’t used to fighting for sport.”

       “Killing demons is a sport. I do just fine at that.” I checked the knot of hair on top of my head, making sure it was secure. He had showed me real quick what a liability long hair was in a close quarters fight.

       He grinned at me and I fought to stay focused. “Then maybe there’s something else distracting you.”

       I launched myself at him, going for a few well-placed body shots to throw him off my intent to sweep his legs. But instead of blocking my shots like I thought he would, he stepped into them and with a small pivot he was positioned perfectly to land a forceful elbow off the side of my neck. _Shit_. Any kind of throat shot was a killing blow in a real fight. Crushed windpipes made the winner apparent real quick. Dean pulled the contact though so it barely touched, just enough to get my attention.

       “Damn it!” I hissed, jerking away from him and fighting back the restlessness in my bones.

       “Aw, come on, baby, don’t be like that. I can’t help it my face is distracting you.” His eyes twinkled.

       I took a wild swing at his head and he ducked it, laughing.

       “Come on, now. Try and come at me for real.” He crouched a little, his arms brought up in a boxing stance loosely.

       Growling, I mirrored his stance, keeping everything loose and ready. We danced around each other for a few steps until I watched for my opening, suddenly lurching toward him and landing a ringing blow to the side of his head. His head snapped a little but he never broke his stance, barely pulling back a second as I eased back, waiting for his response. He took advantage of my hesitation and grabbed my arm, using my momentum to jerk me toward him, dropping down lower and using my lack of balance to literally flip me over his knee. I slammed into the ground hard enough it knocked the wind out of me.

       “Eighteen.” Dean swaggered over me, smirk lighting up his features. “There are still a few things you can learn from me, even though you’re a big bad Chinuitor now.”

       “We both know I could easily put you on your ass,” I muttered, pushing myself to my feet. “If using my power wasn’t against the rules, I’d have you begging so fast—”

       He laughed and the sound rolled down my spine. “Don’t blame me if you can’t win in a fair fight.”

       I squared off with him, letting out a frustrated breath. “How old were you when your dad taught you how to fight? Oh that’s right, you were still in the womb. Yeah, this is _definitely_ a fair fight.”

       He bounced on his toes, smirking so hard dimples appeared in his cheeks. “Come on, baby, don’t be a sore loser. We’re just having some fun.”

       I sprang at him, landing a few good punches before he swept my legs out from beneath me and landed me on my back _again_.

       “Ha! Another point for me. Aren’t you having so much fun?” With a wink, he bent over to help me up and I kicked him hard in the chest, knocking him off his feet. I shoved myself back up and went after him, blocking his attempt to sweep my legs and dropped down onto him, my knees straddling his chest. I wrestled with him, trying to pin his arms to the ground but he grabbed hold of my wrists and flipped us, his weight pinning my lower half to the dirty floor and his grip pinning my hands above me. His smile grew as he hummed. “I like sparring with you a _lot_ better than Sam.” He pressed a very thorough kiss to my mouth before releasing my wrists.

       I quickly wrapped my arms around his neck and my legs around his hips, using his momentary surprise to throw him sideways, reversing our positions again. I raised my eyebrows in challenge. “Gotcha.”

       “You know,” he said lowly, his voice gravelly as his fingers snuck beneath the edge of my shirt, “I think I might have a few ideas of what I want as forfeit.”

       “But I have _you_ pinned,” I murmured, ignoring the goosebumps that broke out.

       “Only because I like you on top.”

       A warm skitter ran up my spine and I leaned over him, hovering a breath above. “Oh you do, hmm?”

       “Yes.” His green eyes sparked as his hands wandered over more of my skin. “And this forfeit I’ve decided on … it involves you, and me, and my big bed upstairs. I still have a lot to make up for, our first time was a bit … rushed.”

       I pulled back in mock offense, ignoring the warmth pooling in my belly. “Is that a complaint?”

       He arched up, pressing his face into my neck and laying a gentle string of kisses there. “God, no, baby. You were amazing. _We_ were amazing. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it –”

       I leaned into his kisses, forcing myself to keep my wits together. “I’ll make you a deal. We can explore some other avenues of stress relief …” I slowly pulled back from him and he frowned at the distance, “…when you stop pulling your punches.” He fell back to the floor with a moan and a laugh burst out of me, breaking up some of my frustration. I settled back on my haunches with a sassy twist. “Besides, I’m the victor. That means I get to take the Impala for a spin.”

       “Like hell you do,” he growled, sitting up to face me and I grabbed hold of his shoulders.

       I clicked my tongue at him. “Those were the terms.”

       “You pinned me once, I pinned you like a thousand times! Yours doesn’t count.”

       I arched an eyebrow at him. “How about one more. Winner takes all. But _you_ can’t pull your punches.”

       “I’m not going to punch you, Alex.”

       “All right then,” I shrugged in determination. “Come on, mister, time to get up and go find Sam. I bet _he_ won’t be afraid to hit me.”

       Dean rolled over and got to his feet, pulling me up beside him. “He will be if he knows what’s good for him.”

       I dropped the pretense of light-heartedness. “I need to learn to hold my own, Dean. I can’t do that if you’re holding back.”

       “We aren’t doing this to train you, we’re doing this to burn off steam. To give me a reason to have my hands all over you.” He gave me a cheeky grin that fell flat when I refused to back down.

       “Even holding back, you _still_ managed to land me on my ass every time. I thought I was struggling because of the pain, because of the muscle damage before, but … I just don’t know how to fight like you do. I need you to teach me, Dean. I _have_ to be able to fight this time.”   

       He shook his head, shadows giving way to frustration. “You’re not going into this alone. We’ll be right there beside you—”

       “I know that you think that. Hell, I hope you’re right. But I also know that shit happens. I can’t count on anyone being there at the end but me. I can’t even rely on my power to save me. I almost always have to have physical touch to use it and what will I do if they handcuff me?” Darkness was starting to creep back into the edges of my mind, our brief respite sliding through my hands like water. “If they take my hands I’m helpless, Dean. I can’t be helpless like that again. I _can’t_.”

       His jaw started to tic. “You’ll never have to face them alone. I would never let that happen.”

       I rubbed my fingertips along his jaw, easing the jumping muscle there. “You can’t control it. But you _can_ control how much I know, how prepared I am to defend myself.”

       His eyes lit with a sudden clarity. “You’re right.” He started pulling me toward the stairwell. “There are some things we _can_ do. But we aren’t going to start with training.”

       “But Dean—” I lurched, trying to keep up with his big steps.

       “We’re starting with your tattoo.”  
       “My what?” 

       He paused on the steps and turned, pulling down the collar of his shirt to show me the star on fire tattooed on the left side of his chest and gave a pointed look at my necklace. “If we can prevent demon possession, that’s going to make it a hell of a lot harder for Faulkner to get his claws into you this time around.”

       “Then I’m in. Let’s go.”

 

       “Where do you want it?” The tattoo artist had a blue Mohawk and ice-blue colored contact lenses. His skin was obviously his canvas and his entire body was a work of art. Dean watched him move with a calculated interest that suddenly had me picturing a very different Dean Winchester. I could see him tatted up, definitely, with a wild dichotomy of rough renditions of the monsters he had taken out and Enochian words of protection, turning him into an impenetrable force of warded warrior. The mental image was intriguing.

       “Alex? Where do you want the tattoo, babe?”

       I pulled my focus back to the present. “Does it have to be on my chest?”

       Dean shrugged. “No.”

       I bit my lip, debating.

       “Don’t put it somewhere you’ll regret,” Sam teased. “It’s going to be there the rest of your life.”

       I rolled my eyes. “Thanks, no pressure.” I deliberated a moment longer before swallowing hard and making a decision. “Ok, I know where I want it, but you guys need to wait outside.”

       Dean’s eyes lit with intrigue. “Why? You putting it somewhere Sam can’t see?”

       “None of your business,” I sassed back, making a face at him.

       His intrigue sharpened. “You know I’m going to see it eventually.”

       “Awfully sure of yourself, aren’t you?” I arched an eyebrow at him.

       His expression heated. “Yes.”

       I gave him a push toward the door, ignoring the warmth spreading inside me. “Out.”

       “Aw, come on, baby, please…” Dean tried to mimic the entreaty in Sam’s eyes that made him so winsome.

       “Yeah, that’s not going to work for you. Sam does it better.”

       Dean shot his brother a dirty look and Sam just threw his head back and laughed as he ushered them both through the doorway. “Come on, let’s go. Shouldn’t take long.”

       He was right, it didn’t take long at all. As the artist finished the last line of the symbol, I waited for some hum of power, some sense of wellbeing to set in but I felt exactly the same. He set down the tattoo gun and pulled off his gloves with a snap. “Make sure you leave that covering on for the next couple hours and wash it carefully after that. No hard soaps or washcloths, all of the instructions are on the paper I gave you.”

       I nodded. “What about the other one?”

       He gave me a long look, his icy blue eyes watchful. “You still sure you want to do it? Sometimes people come in thinking they can handle the pain—”

       “I’m sure. I’ve been through a lot worse.”

       He nodded reluctantly and slipped on a new pair of gloves. “You don’t want a breather?”

       I shook my head, rolling over onto my side. “I’m fine. Let’s get it done before they come in here and raise all sorts of hell.”

       He chuckled and set to work. “Is your skin always this cold? I do need to keep an eye on your blood pressure—”

       “Always. Don’t worry about it.” It was odd but I had noticed the same thing. Ever since Stokes had finished turning me, I was constantly cold. Where I had been burning up with the heat before, now this coldness was lingering into my bones. But if that was the worst thing I had to worry about as far as symptoms went, I was so okay with it. I still felt like I was waiting for the other shoe to drop, some horrible thing to happen as a result of completing the process.

       “Now, rib tattoos hurt worse because there isn’t as much cushion over your bones—”

       “Look, you really can stop trying to talk me out of it. I really want to do it.” I gave him what I hoped was a determined smile over my shoulder. He made a noise but bent over me, adjusting the light to shine directly on my side. This one went more slowly but the sound of the tattoo machine buzzing and the constant needling pain in my side calmed me. It felt so normal. I could pretend for just one moment that I was out with my boyfriend and his brother, getting my first tattoo like a million other girls. No demons, no monsters, no epic showdown brewing in my near future. No more darkness, no other lives on the line. Just … _this._

       “All finished. You’re going to be sore, and a piece this big can take longer to heal. Follow the instructions in those notes to a T though, and you should be good to go. If you have any problems or questions just give me a call.” The artist put a cooling gel on the raised skin and then snapped off his gloves with a flourish. “You ready to face those two giants out front?”

       I carefully got to my feet and put my shirt back on. “Yes.”

       “It’s a very interesting tattoo, by the way. I’ve never seen anything like it. Did you design it yourself?”

       Reluctantly I nodded, not really wanting his feedback but dreading it all the same.   

       “It’s stunning. Would you mind if I take a picture and put it in my portfolio?”

       Something inside me cringed. “I’d rather you didn’t. It’s … personal.”

       He nodded respectfully and got to his feet. “Understood. I appreciate the opportunity to work on it. You’re a beautiful canvas. If ever you want more work done—”

       “Thanks, but I’m not local.” I shrugged awkwardly, suddenly over-aware that I had been spread out almost naked in front of him. It had felt clinical when he was working on the tattoos, but now it was uncomfortably intimate. “You did a great job though, thanks.”

       “No problem. And if you ever change your mind—”

       “I won’t,” I said firmly and stepped out into the front waiting area of the parlor. The boys looked up expectantly.

       “You ready?”

       “Absolutely.”

       Dean settled the details with the artist and the three of us trooped out onto the street. We piled into the Impala and I shuffled around in the back seat as Dean started her up with a roar. “You guys have any napkins up there?”

       Sam popped open the glove box and passed me back a few.

       Dean eyed me in the rear-view mirror. “You want to show us your new ink?” He wiggled his eyebrows teasingly. “I can tell Sammy to cover his eyes.”

       I shook my head at his antics and wiped down the cooling gel off the areas, healing them with a touch. I turned my head to the side, showing them both where the anti-possession tattoo was positioned on the side of my neck. “There, you happy?”

       Dean pouted. “What did we have to leave the room for? I thought you were going to put it somewhere … interesting.”

       I smirked at him. “Where I put my tattoos has nothing to do with you.”

       “That’s disappointing.” I made a face at him and he chuckled, turning his attention back to the road.

       “Wait, did you says _tattoos_? Plural?” Sam turned in his seat, intrigued.

       Dean’s eyes snapped back to mine in the mirror and I shrugged. “Maybe.”

       “You’re killing me, Lex! You got a second one, didn’t you? I know you did. Where is it?” Dean demanded, his grip tightening on the wheel.

       I couldn’t hold back a laugh at his pained expression. “Settle down, Dean. I never knew you had such a thing for tattoos.”  
       “Me neither,” he muttered. “But if it’s going to be on your body, I want to know about it. Hell, give a man a break. I’m still trying to get used to looking at you.”

       I paused in the midst of sprawling my legs out across the seat. “What?”

       “You. Your face. No scars. It’s disconcerting.”

       I ran a hand through my hair, not sure how to respond. “… Should I apologize or something?”

       Sam watched my expression carefully. “You really have no idea, do you?” Sam threw a look at Dean. “Alex, you stay just the way you are forever, okay? If you realized how gorgeous you really are you’d dump his ass in a heartbeat.”

       “Watch it, Sam.” Dean muttered, throwing a heavy punch into Sam’s ribs. “She’s made it clear she's not interested in you, bitch.” They shoved elbows at each other until the car swerved. Dean swore and straightened it back out, throwing Sam a warning look that just made him laugh.

       I settled back into the seat with a smile on my face, my fingers tracing over the fresh tattoo on my ribs. No matter what darkness was coming, now I would always have a little piece of them with me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I do not own Supernatural but sure do love borrowing the beloved characters and playing in their world for a short while.*


	30. Tell Me You Love Me

       Dean in a grocery store was a sight to behold. Sam had wandered off a while ago and I trailed along after Dean like a puppy on a leash, watching in fascination as his cart grew full to overflowing. I would’ve pegged him for a grab and go person – all frozen dinners and beef jerky. But Dean was a connoisseur of ingredients. He debated between two types of tomatoes for three solid minutes, muttering under his breath about the quality of fresh produce declining. He finally looked up and caught me staring unabashedly, setting one set of tomatoes down sheepishly. “Sorry. Sam gets annoyed when we go grocery shopping, says I talk to the food.”

       I couldn’t hold back a burst of laughter. “Does it talk back?”

       He growled, chasing me around the cart. “Watch it, woman. Don’t mock my methods. If you want good food you have to take the time to get the right ingredients.”

       “I never would’ve guessed you could cook,” I shrieked, dodging his tickling fingers.

       He straightened imperiously. “I happen to be the only reason that Sam and Bobby are still alive. If I left them on their own, Sam would weigh about 90 pounds because he would only eat vegetables and Bobby would survive on alcohol. I’m the only one with a taste for the finer things.” He winked at me.

       I tilted my head at him. “I am relieved to see you don’t stay away from real butter or whole milk.”

       “I did say _finer_ things.” We set off down the next aisle and Dean didn’t relax until my arms were full and he had to keep stopping the cart to keep things from tumbling off. We ran into Sam on our way to the registers and Sam just rolled his eyes, a bag of nuts and some jerky in one hand.

       “It better not take you three hours to cook dinner tonight.”

       “If you want fast, go get a pizza. You want _good_ , give me some time to work my magic.”

       Sam snorted, tossing his two items on top of the cart and sending a whole cascade of items sliding. The boys scrambled to catch it all as I melted with laughter, trying to help but really just getting in the way. Thankfully, nothing glass hit the ground and all of Dean’s treasures were saved. Dean fussed at Sam to get out of the way until we made it through checkout, then made him carry the bulk of the bags out to the Impala as penance for the near fatality. Dean packed everything in the trunk just the way he wanted it and we all piled in for the drive home.

       Popping a tape in the tape deck, Dean settled back in the driver’s seat with a satisfied smile.

       “Aw come on, no more AC/DC. Please, anything else—” Sam protested, making a grab for the eject button.

       Dean slapped his hand away. “Are you driving, Sammy?”

       Sam rolled his eyes.

       Dean met my gaze in the rearview mirror. “Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole. House rules.”

       “What about backseat passengers?” I quipped, enjoying the strange feeling of lightness inside me.

       He cocked an eyebrow at me. “Backseat passengers better love the same music I do if they know what’s good for them.”

       I grinned at him. “Then carry on, dear sir.”

       He gave me an approving nod and rolled down his window, cranking up the music to full blast.

       Sam gave in and settled into his seat, rolling down his window. The breeze felt marvelous, the perfect mix of cool crisp wind on a warm day.

       A strange feeling welled up inside me and I spread out in the backseat, enjoying the warmth of the sun on my skin. I felt … content. It was such a foreign concept that I inspected it from all angles, trying to pin down what exactly it felt like and how to hold onto it. This was what perfection must feel like. I closed my eyes, letting the rumble of the car beneath me lull me into a doze.

 

 _Alexis… come back to me…_ A dark curl of fear licked at the edges of my mind and I stirred restlessly, eyes darting behind my eyelids. Sleep. I just wanted to sleep…

 _Alexis!_ The sharp call threw me headlong into a dream, the familiar tones of that hated voice wrapping around me like tentacles. I was back in that cellar, my memories of being rescued and the boys fading with every breath and the cold press of the metal at my wrists overwhelming me.

_No, no, no, no, no, no—_

_Wake up, bitch. This isn’t a dream._ A sharp slap brought me alert with a snap and I stared into his eyes, a dark and fathomless blackness. Just the sight of them was enough to shut down higher brain function.

       Krieger.

       A cruel smile curled his lips. _Thought you were out of my reach, didn’t you?_

_No, this isn’t real—it can’t be real!_

_Trust me, pet, this is real._ He paced around the table I was secured to and dragged his fingers up along my bare ribcage, his revolting touch making bile rise in my throat. Something niggled, a memory that something was missing, my skin was too bare over my ribs, something should’ve been there. _You’ve been a very bad girl. I spent hours decorating you, hours carving designs into your skin. You’ve ruined everything I accomplished._

       I stared at my body, shocked to realize my wounds were gone. There was no blood, no open cuts. I felt whole again and it was wrong in this setting, everything felt _wrong_. I wasn’t supposed to be here. I didn’t know where I was supposed to be but it wasn’t here. There was … something … someone waiting on me.

       He grabbed me by the throat, pinning me roughly to the table and cutting off my airway. He dragged the sharp nails of his other hand all along my body, angrily digging into my skin where all of his marks used to be. I fought the panic rising as it got harder and harder to breathe but I refused to acknowledge his invasive groping. _Look at this, look at how easily your skin blushes. It’s disgusting. How dare you – how fucking dare you pretend that I haven’t conquered you, haven’t broken you to my will? You’re_ mine, _slut_. _You think you can hide from me? You think erasing my marks from you will put you out of my reach?_ A jagged knife that appeared in his hand, the blade glowing a sickly green. _This time, I’m not worried about making it pretty, and you will regret ever trying to escape me. I poured my very lifeblood into your veins, and gave you more power than you can even fathom. But you ran away, you ungrateful bitch. You disappeared, using fucking angel blood to erase our link._ His black eyes flickered as he came closer, his looming presence stealing the air from my lungs. _This time, I won’t go easy. This time my very presence will be marked on your bones and you’ll never be able to hide from me again. But until then, I’m going to tear you to pieces. You_ will _learn to never run from me again. And until I have you at my side, until I’ve hunted you down like the bitch you are, every time you let your guard down I’ll be here in your mind. This is no dream, Alexis, and your body will bear my mark once again._

       The glowing blade sank into my belly and Krieger hacked out a rough rendering of the round symbol he had carved into me before. Excruciating pain lit my nerves on fire and whatever spell he had cast on the blade made it sear straight to the bone. Something inside me woke up, a blue and fiery light beginning to shine around the wound. It burst from my pores and I could _feel_ it attacking the darkness, feel it attacking the wounds even as Krieger carved them. But Krieger continued relentlessly, the light seeming to be nothing but a nuisance and the light began to lose ground, lose its vivid brightness as the moments stretched into eternity.

_Not this time, my dear. You’ll never be able to erase my marks again. Now, run home and do your best to escape. Make it a challenge to run you to ground. You’ll be mine again, and this time nothing will get in my way!_

_Wake up and fear me, bitch._

       “Alex!”

       I surged into motion, punching wildly and shoving the hovering presence back from me with all my strength.

       “Easy, baby, easy! It’s me—it’s Dean!”

       I flung the door open and threw myself outside, gasping for air as pain blazed on my side. I hit the gravel on my hands and knees, nausea threatening to bring up what little I had in my stomach.

       “Alex, what the fuck, baby?! It’s just a dream, you’re all right, you were dreaming!”

       I hung there limply, pressing my eyes closed against the nausea.

       Sunlight. I had been in the car. With Dean. And Sam. We had groceries. Dean was going to cook dinner. I had fallen asleep—

       I slammed the door closed on my thoughts, unwilling to revisit whatever the hell had just happened. Trembling, I pushed myself back on my heels, wiping sweat off my face with the back of my sleeve.

       “You’re safe. You’re here with me, and you’re safe.” Dean crouched in front of me, worry pressing furrows into his brow. “It was just a bad dream, baby. Look at me. You’re safe.”

       “She’s bleeding, Dean.” Sam’s terse comment had Dean’s frantic gaze dropping to my shirt, drawing mine down with it. The left side of my shirt was damp with blood, sticking wetly to my skin. The right side of my clothing was undisturbed over my tattoo. I pressed my eyes closed again at the memory of the ink, the bit of their protective presence stamped on my body, anchoring myself further in the present.

       “What the hell?” Dean jerked my shirt up on my left side, hissing out a breath at the jagged tears he revealed.

       Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. _Real. It was all real._

       Dean’s gaze shot to mine. “What the fuck just happened? You were _sleeping_ —”

       I forced myself to my feet, pressing my hand against my injured side. The power stirred inside me, warmth trying to push itself into being. I pressed my eyes closed, directing the heat to the wounds, trying to force it inside, to reach deeply enough that I could mend the tissue and muscle. The warmth sputtered and slid around inside me, present but avoiding the wounded area like oil on water. I pressed against it harder, digging into the pain, trying to force the warmth into the damaged cells. _Heal, damn it!_ It just skittered around uselessly as if repelled by Krieger’s touch. “We need to get back to Bobby’s.”

       “You’re _hurt_!” Dean reached out to me again but I pulled back, trying to pull myself together. _You’ll never be able to erase my marks again._

       “Faulkner is using Krieger to get to me. We have to go.”

       “I don’t understand – how?”

       Sam straightened, his eyes hardening. “He was dreamwalking?”

       I held his gaze, stricken. I had read about it in one of the books back in my cabin. Dreamwalking was a nasty manipulation of telepathy, like psychic power on steroids. Only very powerful demons or angels could manage it at will. I had assumed Krieger was just one of Stokes’ lackeys, just one more tool in his arsenal to break me down. But Stokes was human and the blackness inside his soul was his only power. If Krieger was strong enough to force himself into my dreams and inflict damage even a Chinuitor couldn’t heal … I had gravely underestimated his demonic power.

       Sam frowned, the wheels inside his head obviously turning. “If someone kills you while they’re dreamwalking, you die in real life, right? So if he hurt her in the dream –” His gazed dropped to my side. “Have you dreamt about him before?”

       I leaned against the Impala, pressing my hand harder against the wounds, trying to staunch the bleeding. “Never like that. It’s usually in bits or pieces.”

       Sam’s gaze sharpened. “How was it this time?”    

       I swallowed roughly. “I was back in the cellar and it felt _real._ He’s angry that I healed the scars, said the symbol he had carved was a link and he’s pissed I tried to erase it. The knife he used … it was green. Glowing. Felt like it was burning down to my bones.”

       Sam and Dean shared a look and Dean’s brow furrowed. “Can you heal it? Can you heal what he did to you?”

       I shook my head in frustration.

       Furious, Dean slammed his hands onto the roof of the Impala. “Son of a bitch!” He spun toward me, anger in every line of his body. “You’re a fucking Chinuitor, damn it! Why the fuck can’t we ever catch a break?!”

       “Dean—” Sam started calmly and Dean shot him a vicious look.

       “Get in the damn car. We need to get her back to Bobby’s and see if we can stop the bleeding.”

  

       Bobby was not happy. “You idjits. It was supposed to be a quick run into town. What did you do wrong this time?”

       “Dreamwalker got her.” Dean bit out, hovering restlessly as we made our way in the front door.

       Bobby’s eyebrows flew up. “What?”

       “Do you have a towel or something?” I asked, trying to keep my arm pressed to my side. “I don’t want to bleed on the floor.”            

       Bobby disappeared for a moment and reappeared with a t-shirt. He passed it to me apologetically. “I promise it’s clean. I don’t understand – why can’t you heal it?”

       “We don’t know,” Sam piped up, coming in behind us. We all made it to the living room and Dean forced me down on the couch.

       “Fucking Krieger went after her while she was sleeping. Apparently he’s a damn dreamwalker now,” Dean snarled.

       “Krieger? You mean that son of a bitch demon you’ve been hunting since Cas squirreled Alex away?”

       I shot a look at Dean, shocked. He had been doing what?

       “The one I’ve chased to hell and back? The one hiding behind Faulkner so I can’t cut him apart piece by piece? Yeah. That son of a bitch.”

       Bobby took off his hat and ran a hand through his thinning hair. “If he did this and she can’t heal it, we underestimated how powerful he is. I didn’t know anything was powerful enough to cause damage a Chinuitor couldn’t heal. The legends say Chinuitors can bring the dead back to life, how the fuck did a demon find something that could be more powerful than that?”

       I leaned my head back against the cushions, trying to avoid Dean’s plucking fingers as he tried to inspect the injury. “I can’t even reach it. My power slides around it like there’s a force field.”

       “What did he say to you?” Dean demanded. “In the dream. What did he say?”

       I swallowed roughly, a shiver of revulsion running through me. “He called it a link.” My gaze swung to meet Bobby’s. “He said I had tried to erase the link and I would never be able to heal it again, that it would be seared on my bones.”

       “Son of a bitch,” Dean swore, throwing himself up from the couch and disappearing into the kitchen.

       Sam and Bobby shared a long look. “We need Cas.”

       I frowned. “Where is he? I haven’t seen him since--” I bit off the rest of the words. I hadn’t seen him since I had hurt Grady.

       Bobby tugged on his beard. “He said he had some things to take care of. He checked in after he got that bastard back to New York but I haven’t heard anything since then. We definitely need him, though. I have no idea what we’re dealing with.”

       Dean reappeared, a handful of supplies clutched in his fist. “Bobby, Sam, clear out.”

       "But Dean—” Sam protested.

       “I need to put her back together. _Again_.” He swung a furious glance at me. “I’m getting real sick and tired of having to clean up your blood, Alex. I thought we were past this.”

       I raised an eyebrow at him in surprise. “Sorry to inconvenience you, Dean. Go fuck yourself.”

       Silently Sam and Bobby stepped out of the room, both giving Dean sympathetic looks.

       I pushed myself to my feet, ignoring the burn in my side. It was a nagging, searing feeling and the constant sloshing of my power against the slick edges of the wound was nauseating. “I can clean myself up. I don’t need you right now.”

       His eyebrows flew to his hairline. “You don’t need me right now? We’re up against a demon powerful enough to take down a fucking Chinuitor – someone that we thought was just a two-bit demon, I might add—and you don’t _need_ me? Think again, sweetheart.”

       “I don’t have fucking time to deal with your overinflated ego, Dean. You don’t know what we’re dealing with. You don’t know what kind of hoodoo bullshit Krieger put on that knife. You don’t even know if you want to handle this new go-round of absolute horseshit that is my life. You want out? Just say the word. None of you owe me a goddamn thing. We knew Faulkner was coming, now we know he’s using Krieger and some fucking _link_ to reel me in like a fish and I can’t do a damn thing to stop it.” I paused, my chest heaving with furious breaths. “You want out? Fine with me. Those words I said to you in the junkyard? It was all bullshit. I don’t love you. Fuck, I don’t even know what love is.”

       He got up in my face, throwing the supplies to the couch with a snarl. “Take it back!”

       I instinctively pulled back from the manic heat in his eyes, but I refused to back down. “No!”

       “Say whatever the fuck you want about how useless I am in this fight. I know it better than anybody. But don’t you dare take back what you said. Those words mean something. You don’t get to take them back.”

        “You're the one that wants out, Dean – I’m just making sure there’s no guilt to keep you here.”

       He got up in my face, anchoring his hands in my hair and pull me toward him furiously. “Say it.”

       “What?” I tried to pull out of his grasp.       

       He gave me a little shake. “Say it again. You don’t get to take it back. I want to hear it again.”

       “I don’t understand—” I struggled futilely against his hold.

       “ _Tell me you love me, damn it._ ” The words were guttural, torn from deep inside him and I froze. His eyes were wide, the green flashing ominously as if he were on the brink of breaking apart. Dean, the hard ass tough-as-nails warrior looked like he was about to shatter. “I’m doing my best. I’m shit at this and I know it. I don’t want out – I’m just goddamn tired of seeing you hurting. You laughed today. You really fucking laughed when Sam about spilled all those damn groceries. You were _happy_ and for one minute I thought that this was going to be okay. That I could bring you more of those moments. I’ll do whatever it fucking takes to give you as many of those moments as I can for the rest of my life. I don’t want _out,_ Lex. I want _you_ , and I feel like every time I turn around you’re slipping through my fingers. Well guess what?” He gripped me tighter and pulled me closer. “I’m not losing you. Not to Faulkner and sure as fuck not to some two-bit demon no matter how powerful he is. You don’t get to take back what you said. You’re stuck with me. We’re in this together and you’re going to say it. Tell me you love me, damn it. Because I sure as fuck love you.”

       Complete shock held me still.

       He glared at me fiercely.

       My heart pounded in my chest and my head spun. He’d said it. He’d really said it. But did I want to hold him to it? He didn’t deserve any of this.

       He growled. “Don’t you fucking dare say something stupid like I’m better off without you. I’m not. I’m nothing without you. We are heading into this fight together. I may be useless and you may not need my help but you damn well have it. We’re going to fight about a lot of things, Lex, but I don’t want to fight about this one ever again. Do you understand me?” The ferocity on his eyes floored me.

        “I—I understand.”

       “Now tell me the damn words so I can quit having a heart attack.”

        I grabbed hold of his shirt with both hands and pulled him in threateningly. “Quit telling me what to fucking do.”

        "Alex—” He rumbled warningly.

       “You’re an idiot. You are completely and utterly mad and I don’t know what the fuck you see in me. You should be flat out running the other way. But I love you. I love you with everything I have and everything I am. I don’t understand it and I don’t know how we’ll ever manage to come out on the other side of this intact. But I want this. I want to be with you.”

       The words seemed to loosen something inside him. If they were supposed to save him from shattering they seemed to have the opposite effect. He broke apart in front of my very eyes. There was even a tremor in the hands he still had wrapped up in my hair. He pulled me in closer and pressed the softest, gentlest, sweetest kiss I could’ve imagined on my lips.

       “That's all I need to know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, I promised details on the tattoo. But -- wasn't this better? Are you really disappointed? I promise, I *will* tell you what it is in the next chapter! (Unless something else crazy happens and I have to postpone it again ... but it really is coming! I swear I won't leave you hanging!)
> 
> As always, kudos and comments make my day! I do so love hearing your feedback and reactions to the new chapter!
> 
> *I do not own Supernatural but sure do love borrowing the beloved characters and playing in their world for a short while.*


	31. I Don't Think You Understand

       That soft kiss wrecked me. I felt like the world had split on its axis but somehow everything shifted and felt _right_.

       Reluctantly he released me. “All right then. Now quit trying to push me away and let me patch you up.”

       I huffed. “You were the one who—”

       He pressed another gentle kiss to my mouth. “Quit arguing with me and lay down.”

       Grumbling under my breath, I followed his orders, sitting down and slouching against the back cushion. This poor couch, I could only imagine at its muddy red color and the fact that I couldn’t tell whether I had dripped blood on it or not. A good furniture choice for a hunter, no doubt. 

       Dean gathered all the supplies he had thrown and set them up neatly on the side table. Deftly, he knelt beside me and rolled my shirt up to the top of my ribs, revealing the hot mess that Krieger had left. I shifted uncomfortably and he pressed a firm hand to my sternum, stilling the movement. He ran a finger gently through the blood that had slowed to a steady seep, brushing it off my belly where he could. “Alex …?”

       I found his eyes on my fresh tattoo. A dull blush filled my face and I shifted beneath his steadying hand. “Yeah?”

       “This…” He traced his clean hand over the fresh ink, my healing having left the skin smooth and the ink freshly bright. “Did you design this?”

       “I didn't want somebody else's bad drawing on my body,” I shrugged, trying to suss out his reaction.

       “This is …” He brushed over it again, from one end to the other. It was a broad swathe of black paint at first glance, with white light bursting in a jagged line down the center as if peeling back the darkness. It stretched from the curve of my waist to the bottom of my breast. But the longer Dean stared at the piece, the more I could see he was picking up on the soft gray lines that were nearly hidden but drew depth and texture out of the solid black. The soft gray threw definition on two figures, one on either side of the white tear. The one on the right was long lithe strokes, the gray merely bouncing the eye off the lines of shaggy hair touching a broad shoulder, a turned hip, a slight suggestion of long legs that stretched until they faded in the darkness. There was a weapon in his hand but of indiscriminate size or shape, the figure’s tight grip highlighted on the handle. The left side, the one closest to my heart, revealed another outline with rough, jagged gray strokes. There was a sharp jut of a jawline, short cropped hair revealing muscular shoulders and the wide spread of his stance. His hands were empty, but curled into fists as if he would take on the darkness with sheer strength alone. The figure’s head was turned in profile and the soft grey shone behind both figures, revealing small hints of their features but effectively throwing all but their outlines into shadow.

       I swallowed hard, waiting for him to speak. “It’s … it's the first moment I saw you.”

       Dean stared at it, his expression still as he traced over it again and again, his thumb just barely tracing the bottom of my ribcage, the very edge of the piece.

       I finally reached out and laced my fingers with his, stilling the movement. “Dean?” 

       He finally raised his eyes to mine. “This is the cellar.”

       I nodded.

       “It’s one of your darkest memories, Lex. Why--?”

       I gave his hand a squeeze, suddenly fighting the weight of emotion in my chest. “It’s the very best memory I have, Dean.”

       He shook his head, struggling to understand. “It’s beautiful, I’ve never seen anything like it. But why would you want this? Why would you want that moment tattooed on your body forever? I was a dick to you, I even thought about leaving you down there. How--”

       My grip tightened on him. “I don’t think you understand what you two did for me that day. You pulled me out of hell. You saved me when there wasn’t a single soul alive who would’ve come for me. I would’ve died down there, Dean, and no one would have known. You didn’t just rescue me from them, you showed me how to hope again.” I took in a measured breath, trying to tamp down the emotions. “You’ve given me Bobby. And Cas. And Sam, and _you_.  Even in the midst of this whole hellish nightmare, you are and always will be my best and brightest memory.”

       He just stared at me, raw emotion in his eyes. Slowly, reverently he pressed a kiss on my knuckles, then a soft kiss to my tattoo, right over my heart. “I love you, Lex. I don’t--” He shook his head, fighting to find the words. “You don’t deserve any of this. I meant what I said. I want to see you happy more than I’ve ever wanted anything. But don’t – just don’t think I’m some kind of hero. I’m not …” His fingers traced absently over the tattoo. “I’m not _good._ I’ve done things, Lex, that I can’t even begin to—” He swallowed roughly. “There are things I hope you never find out about me. Things that made me forget the man I want to be. But with you … You make me want to be _this_ _._ This man in your tattoo is a hero, he's your rescuer.” He looked up at me, suddenly fierce. “I want that, Lex, I want to be that for you. But I need you to understand that sometimes you have to be dark to fight what’s out there, to win. I’ll do anything to protect you, Alex, _anything_. I just … need you to always see me as _this_ man. I need you to help me remember that that’s who I want to be.”

       I pressed a fierce kiss to his mouth, ignoring the pain in my side. “I understand the darkness. Trust me, babe, I do. And there’s nothing you could have ever done that would make me love you any less. I know what evil looks like, and trust me, Dean Winchester, _you are a good man._ ” I flashed him a smile that was equal parts heartbreak and hope. He wrecked me. With every word out of his mouth I wanted to fight, wanted to slay his demons, slay the memories that made him feel so hopeless. He embodied hope for me. He had seen me at my worst, seen me at my darkest and reached out to help me put myself back together. He didn’t sweep to the rescue, didn’t try and disregard that the darkness existed. He was just … there. Like a compass always showing me the way. And I would be the same for him.

       I patted his cheek gently, breaking up the storm of denials I could see brewing in his eyes. “Now patch me up so I can make love to you. Because all I want right now is to be wrapped up in your arms. And if I’m not mistaken, you said you had some mighty fine plans for making up for how rushed our first time was.” I waggled my eyebrows at him to erase the remaining tension, striving to banish the shadows in his eyes.

       He laughed roughly, leaning back on his heels as he visibly pushed his emotions down. “That I do. And I wish we could spend the rest of the day in bed, Lex, but Krieger--”

       I raised my eyebrows. “Dean. I am not kidding. I need you. Inside me.”

       He ran a hand over the back of his neck, torn. “But Lex—”

       I pushed myself up and swung my feet to the floor, feeling determination start singing in my veins. For whatever temporary insanity it might be, he loved me and I knew how to erase the shadows in his eyes. And fuck me if I was going to be deterred. I leaned into him, keeping one arm tight to my damaged side. “Dean…” I murmured, blinking up at him and letting my thoughts shine clearly, “I _need_ you. I don’t care if we make up for last time. Hell, I think I’d be okay if we don’t make past the door to your room. But _please_ , Dean, I—”

       Without a word he grabbed the back of my thighs and hoisted me up so I was straddling his waist as he headed for the doorway.

       I wrapped my free arm around his neck, snuggling in to press my mouth to his ear. “I know you need me too, baby.” I pressed a soft kiss to the side of his neck and he twitched, hands tightening on my thighs. “As soon as we get in that door, I need you high and deep and hard inside me—” He stumbled at the bottom of the steps, having to twist at the last second to regain his balance against the wall. “Fuck, Dean, hurry up. I need you sucking on my breasts, I need you sucking _hard_ —”

       “Dean! Bring Alex back down here.” Bobby bellowed, his voice carrying down the hallway. “Cas thinks he might know how Krieger hurt her.”

       Dean pressed his face into my shoulder, stifling his growling moan. I huffed a small laugh into his hair, letting out my own sigh of frustration. “Damn. That angel has horrible timing.”

       Dean just grunted, letting my legs drop so I could slide down his body. We were still hidden from sight, we had only made it halfway up the stairs. He buried his hands in my hair and pulled me toward him for a deep, lusty kiss. “Now you’ve got me all spun up with nowhere to go. You owe me one, sweetheart,” his voice was a low rasp.

       I grinned against his lips. “Fair enough.” I pressed closer against him, pressing the heel of my hand against the bulge in his jeans. He bucked up into me with a stifled groan. “I’ll make it worth the wait.”

       “You damn well better,” he muttered, strategically placing me in front of him as we started back down the stairwell.

       I couldn’t hold back a smile as he snuck his hand into mine and gave it a tight squeeze, holding me close as we made our way to the kitchen to face wherever Cas’s information would lead us next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I do not own Supernatural but sure do love borrowing the beloved characters and playing in their world for a short while.*


	32. Let's Do This

       Cas watched me warily from across the kitchen. “How are you feeling?”

       I tilted my head at him, his guardedness making me pause. “I’m all right.”

       “I am not being polite, Alexis. It’s very important that you answer my question truthfully.” The intensity of Cas’s gaze didn’t waver and Dean’s casual slouch behind me shifted to caution.

       “What do you know about Krieger, Cas?”

       The angel flicked a quick glance at Dean before his attention came back to rest on me. “I know he is a demon to be wary of. Alex? Do you feel … altered… after Krieger’s mark?” At the negative shake of my head, Cas relaxed minutely. “Then perhaps Bobby’s rendition of the symbol was wrong. May I see it?”

       “It’s the same mark as last time,” I frowned, dread stirring in the pit of my belly.

       “I have not seen it clearly. You have always been covered in blood whenever you are partially undressed.”

       I couldn’t argue with that. I carefully pulled my clinging shirt from my side and rolled it up, knotting it with a slick twist beneath my breasts. I grimaced at the seepage. “Pass me a paper towel or something, would you Sam?”

       His gaze was pinned to my tattoo and I forced down a blush. “Sam. Paper towel.”

       Without a word, he disappeared into the kitchen. 

       Dean ran a soothing touch up the curve of my spine and leaned against me. “Sorry, babe,” he murmured in my ear as I leaned into the touch. “Next time let me fix you up before you distract me.”

       Sam reappeared and passed me a roll of paper towels, his eyes dragging reluctantly back to the tattoo. His gaze finally raised to mine and his eyes were shadowed, a wealth of unspoken words hidden in their depths. 

       Unsure how to respond to his searching look, I dropped my gaze and pressed a handful of towels to the wound and soaked as much of the blood up as possible, rubbing carefully so Cas could get a clear look.

       Cas sucked in a deep breath as I made one last pass over the area. He was beginning to look frazzled, and the realization sent a shiver down my spine. ‘Frazzled’ on Cas meant this was bad. This was very bad. “What’s wrong, Cas? What is it?”

       “That symbol is an Asuat.”

       Bobby shoved himself away from the counter, glower deepening with every second. “No. No, it is not. There’s no fucking way that monster put a damn Asuat on her. That’s not even possible.”

       Cas gave him a measured look. “I am not mistaken, Bobby.”

       “Damn it, Cas--!” Bobby’s shadowed eyes swung to me reluctantly. They were filled with pity and a strong note of horror.

       “I don’t understand,” I shifted uncertainly. “I’ve never read anything about Asuats in the lore books – what is it?”

       Bobby started to pace in agitation. “It’s far too powerful to be kept in lore books. It’s old world magic, we’re talking ancient times. The warlocks that knew how to create Asuats were gaining so much power so quickly that God stepped in and took their memories of how to accomplish it. God literally tried to erase it from existence.”

       “But then how—”

       Bobby gnashed his teeth, anger lighting his eyes. “I have no idea, darlin’. No fucking idea.”

       Cas stared at the marking apprehensively and I fought the urge to cover it up. “Symbols and sigils are very powerful. Human blood gives any symbol added strength, and this demon has done something I did not know was possible in applying it directly to a host. Even with your Chinuitor power, God placed safeguards to prevent this sigil from ever coming back into existence.” His brow wrinkled. “It should not be possible. An Asuat is a symbol meant to brand something for eternity, to put ownership on it until the end of time. Whoever draws the symbol is seen as the rightful owner of that item with no disputes. The spell and knowledge needed to create one is ancient and has been buried for centuries for good reason. It’s a brand. This Krieger has claimed you with an eternal vow of ownership.” He winced, his fear and sorrow clear. Anger started burning in my belly at the audacity of that bastard. Cas caught something in my expression and tried for a lighter approach. “Perhaps he did not have the knowledge to complete the brand properly and merely carved a design on your skin. I will not know until I try and remove it. May I?”

       Dean finally spoke up, his voice loud against the tension. “Wait. If it’s that damn powerful, there’s a lot more risk here than you just healing the wounds he made. If that bastard _did_ do it right, how is it going to affect Alex?”

       Cas sighed. “She’ll belong to him.”

       “What does that mean, Cas?” Dean pressed, voice rasping with impatience.

       “It was not intended for humans, Dean, I don’t—”

       “Cas!” Dean growled.

       The angel stiffened. “She’ll be his property. No one will come to her aid, no one will contest that her power is his to do with as he pleases. It’s meant to create an eternity link with _items_ , and the strength of the link allows them to follow you into the afterlife.”

       I froze, everything inside me coming to a halt.

       “You better be fucking kidding me, Cas.” Dean’s voice went cold. “You better not be telling me that that bastard has _ownership_ of her for eternity.”

       Cas turned to me apologetically. “The reason you were able to heal his marks the first time was because he had only accomplished part of the ritual. This time he completed the link between you.”

       “You need to fix this, Cas. You need to fix it _now._ ” Dean demanded.

       The angel’s eyes narrowed in determination, coming toward me with long strides. “I will do my best.”

       Bobby grabbed Cas’s elbow. “What will happen to Alex if you _can_ take it off?”

       Cas hesitated and my skin started heating up as uneasiness began licking at my spine. “I do not entirely know. This is ancient magic and I have never seen or dealt with it directly. I pray it does her no harm to remove it.”

       I sucked in a deep breath, straightening. “Cas, I want you to take that bastard’s mark off me. We have to try. I can’t belong to him, I--” I bit off the rest of my words, shaking my head. “This is my decision. We have to try.”

       “Nobody is arguing that, darlin’. But we have to talk about this before Cas tries to mess with ancient magic.” Bobby finally stopped pacing and stared at me head on. “If Krieger has this much power at his fingertips, then we’ve had this thing all wrong.” His gaze jumped to the boys. “We thought that Faulkner was the top player in this and Krieger was just one of his minions. But what if the reason we can’t find Faulkner is because he’s a front? What if it’s been Krieger all along? If everyone is hunting down this human overlord that doesn’t exist, Krieger would be free to move in and out of his ranks and operations without a problem. Hell, we didn’t even know who Krieger was until Alex.”

       Dean stepped away from me, eyes hard. “That would explain how personal he made things. _Damn it!_ ” He exploded, running a hand through his hair. “His initials.” He swung around to face me. “He carved his fucking initials into your leg. Why the fuck didn’t I see it?!”

       It all was beginning to make so much sense. Stokes making sure my time with Krieger in the cellar was always uninterrupted. Krieger being furious that that I had ruined everything he had accomplished. Krieger’s personal determination that I would break, that he could push me to the edge of my sanity. Every move he made had been about claiming me, about conquering me and bending me to his will. My head spun as all the pieces finally came together.

       “Time is running out, Alex. The longer this mark remains on you, the closer he is to coming for you.” Cas stared at me earnestly, his bright blue eyes determined. “I will do everything that I can to protect you, but we need to know if we can remove the Asuat from your skin.”

       I buckled down on the emotions spinning through me. “All right then.”

       Dean grabbed my shoulder and spun me toward him, his eyes fierce. “This is going to work, Lex. It _will_.”

       I burrowed my hands into his shirt, searching his features for a certainty that I could grab hold of, that I could anchor myself to. Instead I found just as much desperation as I felt in my own gut. This _had_ to work.

       It had to.

       I pressed a rough kiss to his mouth, too fast and too fleeting to calm any of the storm beginning to rage inside me. “Let’s do this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I do not own Supernatural but sure do love borrowing the beloved characters and playing in their world for a short while.*


	33. You Heard The Prayers

       I stared at the stitching on my jeans blindly, knees drawn up to my chest. Dean was pacing, anger simmering just below the surface, ready to erupt at the least provocation. Sam sat quietly on the couch with me, and the soft rustle of Cas’s trench coat was the only indication of his presence.

       Bobby appeared in the entryway, brow furrowed. “I made some phone calls. We’ll see what some of the other hunters can dig up. There’s got to be something out there that can help.”

       I nodded my thanks without meeting his gaze.

       “I’m sorry, Alex,” Cas said softly, the words almost meaningless with repetition.

       “It’s fine, Cas. You tried.”

       “But he’s only a demon. I should be strong enough—”

       I huffed in frustration, finally raising my eyes to meet his. “Don’t start taking Dean’s lines, Cas. It’s fine, this isn’t your fault. I’ll figure something out.”

       Dean turned, eyes flashing. “We will figure something out. _We_.”

       I rolled my eyes. “Fine. We.”

       “Damn it, Lex—” Dean started in.

       “Dean.” Sam’s voice snapped sharply and his brother quieted. They shared a silent conversation that had Dean finally turning back to his pacing without another word.

       Damn it. This whole thing was a clusterfuck. What little hope I had managed to hold tight to had turned to ashes in my hands when Cas had stepped back from me with a wrenching apology in his eyes.  
        _Owned_. Like some sort of fucking slave.

       “I don’t understand it,” Dean declared, spinning to glare at Cas. “You’re a damn angel, Cas. Why is it that you’re perfectly useless when it comes to Alex? The one time I have something important enough to move heaven and hell for, and you can’t do a damn thing. Explain that to me.”

       Cas looked at him in shock, hurt in his bright blue eyes.

       “Over and over and over,” Dean pressed on, striding across the room to push into the angel’s personal space, “you haven’t been there for her. Hell, you were in that panic room with her the whole damn time while Grady fucking cut her apart and you did _nothing._ ”

       I stood up, grabbing hold of anger with both hands. “Dean, that’s enough. Cas did _everything_ for me. He almost _died_ for me down there.”

       “Yeah well, dying doesn’t do anyone a lick of good. Cas should’ve been able to blow the doors of that place and thrown both those bastards in hell.”

       Cas flinched beneath the weight of Dean’s accusation before straightening, squaring up to look him in the eyes. “It’s complicated, Dean. You don’t understand—”

       “Then dumb it down for me, Cas!” Dean roared, fists clenching. “Damn it! You’ve always been there for me and Sam, Cas. _Always_. Why the fuck haven’t you pulled through for her?!”

       Cas just stood there, eyes stormy.

       “Say something!” Dean bellowed.

       “ _Nephilim_.”

       Dean froze.

       Cas’s voice was sharp. “She’s a Nephilim, Dean. Or was, before Krieger got a hold of her. You have no idea what all I’ve done for you, to protect her. When the two of you released her from that cellar, Krieger’s demons were searching high and low for her. The angels got wind of a Nephilim alive and on the loose. They have been hunting her as well, Dean, and you have _no idea_ the lengths I have gone to in order to prevent them from finding her. Do not blame me for the things I can’t control. She is alive, Dean, and that is a miracle unto itself.”

       “What the fuck? My parents were human, Cas. I’m not a Nephilim.”

       Cas suddenly seemed larger, as if his presence stretched in the room. He gave me a hard look over Dean’s shoulder. “You are part human and part angel, Alexis. Of that I have no doubt.”

       My thoughts tumbled, trying to orient myself within his declaration.

       He pushed harder. “You were healing others even in your childhood. You have always been naturally sympathetic to others, which is why when your system was struggling to acclimate to Krieger’s perversions in your blood, you became so strongly empathic. Your defenses were down and you could no longer block out other’s emotions. Even now, you could use that ability if you chose, but you have spent your whole life trying to shut out that part of yourself that you don’t even realize that empathy is naturally a part of you. When you healed me in the panic room, you heard the prayers, didn’t you?”

       I fought the urge to cover my ears, to block out what he was saying to me.

       “Answer me, Alexis. You heard the prayers, the cries for help and healing, _didn’t you_?” Cas pressed.

       I struggled to hold his gaze, to not back down from the knowledge in his eyes. “I heard them.”

       “Have you tried to reach out empathically since you completed the conversion? Since you were strong enough to get your defenses back up?”

       Slowly, I shook my head.

       “Test it. See if I am wrong.” Cas challenged, his gaze still hard.

       Dread filled the pit of my stomach. “But I tried to reach out to Stokes--I tried to read his emotions, his intentions when he had us down there, Cas. I tried to push my power out—”

       “That entire panic room is warded against angels. My power was almost completely blocked, helping you into unconsciousness was the extent of what I was able to do.” The shadows in his eyes were suddenly more pronounced, the bright blue turning to a stormy grey. “I tried, Alex. You have to understand that I was trying to do everything in my power to use my strength to help you, to prevent any harm coming to you or Sam.”

       Bobby cleared his throat roughly. “Those sigils are unbreakable, Cas. I made them strong enough to withstand a bloody smiting. I never imagined --” He bit off the rest of his words with an apologetic shake of his head.

       Cas pushed on relentlessly, bringing his attention back to me. “Even your Chinuitor power was blocked, which is why the conversion didn’t hit you fully until you were outside the confines of the panic room.”

       Realization dawned. “That’s why you were able to heal yourself once Sam dragged you out of there.”

       He nodded.

       I moved across the room and pressed Dean aside, tilting my head back to look Cas in the eyes. “I know that you were doing everything you could, Cas. While we were down there together…” I clenched my fist, struggling to find the words. “I thought you were dead, Cas. I really thought they had killed you to turn me.”

       He reached out and gave my fist a gentle squeeze. “I would have gladly given my life if it meant sparing you that pain and betrayal. I did not know the extent of what would happen with Grady. Please trust in that. You are a fierce warrior, Alexis. I am proud to consider you among my … friends.” His gaze touched on everyone in the room. “I have forsaken much of who I was to fight alongside Dean and Sam. I have turned my back on what was once my family, to help the Winchesters fight for good, for honor and innocence. The heavens have been in chaos and at the whimsy of powerful and vindictive angels for much too long.” His gaze came back to rest on me. “They want you dead, simply on principle of your birth. They believe Nephilim are an abomination.”

       I swallowed hard. “But even if I was part angel, Cas, you heard Stokes. He made me his hybrid mutt now. I hardly think there’s enough angel in me to warrant Heaven’s notice.”

       “You’re a Chinuitor, Alex, that hardly makes you a _mutt_.” Dean finally spoke up. The color was finally starting to come back into his shell shocked face. Inwardly, I winced. There was so much more at risk now than just me. If I belonged to Krieger now, Dean would never stop pursuing the demon.   

       Cas’s gaze dropped to the Asuat. “While there is a mixture of species in your blood, you are primarily angel, especially after Stokes used my blood to help offset the demon blood. And the very fact that you have both angel and demon blood in your veins would explain why you have survived so very much. You may have the strengths of both species and the weaknesses of either. Only time will reveal your abilities.”

       “I think you have this all wrong,” Sam began to pace across the room. “The only Nephilim we have _ever_ come across was nothing like Alex. They had super strength and could recognize angels a mile away—”

       Cas raised an eyebrow at him. “You are strong. Would you say that Garth is just as strong?”

       “No, but—”

       “Why would Nephilim not be just as varied as humans, and their strengths just as diverse?”

       Silence fell as we all began to digest what Cas was telling us. Slowly, I made my way back to the couch and sat down, pressing myself into the corner.

       Cas sighed. “This may all seem like a lot of information to take in. Trust me, I have spent a great deal of time trying to validate its truth or falsity. I have been unable to identify which of your parents is biological and which resides in heaven, because your protection has taken priority on my time.” I suddenly noticed how very tired he looked, and that he was beginning to get furrows in his brow that nearly matched Dean’s. “I know everyone in this room has felt that I have failed you, Alex. That I left you on your own when you needed their protection and that I have been harsh in my treatment of you. But you should understand that I have killed no less than ten of my brothers to protect you. Your ability to handle the demons and vampires on your own in Kentucky, that allowed me to focus on keeping the angels off your path with minimal distractions. I helped you when I could, when the sickness would become too much for you. But I want you to understand that you have become a friend and a vital part of Dean’s life. For those things alone, I will do everything in my power to protect you.”

       “Thank you, Cas. I … owe you more than I ever knew. Thank you for everything that you’ve done.”

       Dean crossed his arms over his chest, his jaw set and conflict in his eyes. “Cas.”

       The angel looked at him hesitantly. “Dean.”

       “I need you to come through on this one.”

       Resignation curved Cas’s shoulders. “I know.”

       “You’ve always been there for us. For _all_ of us. I need you to stick with me on this one. It … matters. _She_ matters.”

       “I am aware, Dean.”

       “I don’t think you understand, Cas. I love her.”

       Without a word, Cas went over to Dean and wrapped him in the most awkward hug imaginable, all long limbs and stiff postures. Dean slapped him on the back roughly before pulling away and Cas just looked at him with shadowed eyes. “I understand, Dean. I will do my best.”

       Sam made a sound as he folded down onto the couch next to me. I swallowed hard under his steady gaze. “You know Dean will never stop until he figures out a way to separate you from Krieger, right?”

       I nodded.

       “You also know that Heaven is never going to stop hunting you, no matter what Cas does?”

       “I know, Sam,” I said softly.

       “I can’t lose either one of you, Alex.”

       I folded my hand around his on the couch between us. “I’ll figure something out.”

       He turned his hand over and laced our fingers together, his big hazel eyes almost swallowing me whole. “We all will. Now, tell me about the tattoo.”

       I huffed a small laugh. “Smooth transition there, Winchester.”

       His gaze dropped to the broad black and white stripe across my ribs. “It’s hard to ignore.” Uncomfortably, I started to pull my shirt down but he stopped me, his gaze tracing the faint gray lines in the darkness. Thankfully, he kept his hands to himself. I could feel Dean’s gaze across the room but could already tell that his willingness to leave Sam and I time to ourselves was stretching thin. “It’s the cellar, isn’t it?”

       I sighed softly, separating our hands.

       “You got me tattooed on your body, Alex. The least you can do is explain it to me.”

       I winced at the truth of his statement. “Fine, Sam, don’t get bent out of shape.”

       He snorted. “Hardly. If anything, I’m flattered. It’s an incredible tattoo.”

       I rolled my eyes and groused at him. “Well, then don’t get a big head.” I took a long breath, trying to gather the right words. “For a long time, Grady—or at least who I thought Grady was-- held me together through all the shit in that cellar. When I lost that—” I stumbled, trying not to sound like a sap, “—Dean helped me find it again. I realized the two of you didn’t just rescue me from that cellar, you brought me hope. No matter what happens next, I wanted to be able to remember that.”

       I finally got the nerve to look back into his eyes. What I found there made me pull back from him. He was angry. Not irritated or aggravated, but  _angry._ “Hell, Sam, what’s your problem?”

       He got to his feet, towering over me with sparks in his eyes. “I need to talk with you in private.”

       I cast a quick glance at Dean but he was distracted talking to Bobby. “What the hell for? Whatever you want to say—”

       “Now, Alex. Get off your ass and meet me in the hallway.”

       Disgruntled, I got to my feet and shook my shirt down into place, stalking out into the relative privacy of the hallway, ready to give him a piece of my mind. “Damn it, Sam, it’s just a stupid tattoo—”

       “Don’t even try and pretend you got that tattoo for anything other than a touchstone.”

       I pulled back, the foreign word interrupting my flow of steam. “What?”

       Sam blew out a hard breath, running a hand through is long hair. “A touchstone. You got that tattoo because you think you’re going to end back up at their mercy. Angels, demons, Faulkner, Krieger – you think we can’t save you. You got that tattoo so you wouldn’t get lost again, so you could remember what to fight for!”

       I lifted my chin up angrily.

       “Damn it, Alex, you’re already planning to lose!”

       “I got this tattoo before we ever knew about Krieger. I got it to remember what hope looks like. That’s it.”

       “I don’t believe you.” Sam growled, souning exactly like Dean and I had had enough.

       “I don’t care what you believe, Sam. It’s _my_ tattoo. It means what it means. What are you so mad about?”

       He glared at me so intensely I was surprised he wasn’t trying to throttle me. “If you leave my brother it will wreck him, Alex. It will absolutely wreck him.”

       “Who said anything about leaving Dean?!” I shrieked hoarsely, shooting a quick glance at the doorway to make sure no one was following us out there.

       “You have fought too damn hard to give up now, Alex—”

       That’s it. I shoved him hard in the chest, throwing him back a step. “Who the fuck said anything about giving up?! This whole time I’ve been telling you that I’m going to figure something out. I’m trying, Sam, what more do you want from me?!”

       “I want you to look me in the eyes and swear to me that you are not even remotely considering turning yourself over to Kreiger. You don’t fucking need a touchstone, Alex, you need to _fight_.”

       “I’m not quitting, damn it!”

       He stepped closer into my space, doing his best to use his towering height to intimidate me. “If you mess up my brother, so help me, Alex--”

       “Yeah yeah, I know. You’ll fuck me up.” I rolled my eyes and fought the urge to shove him back again.

       “ _Damn you_ , this isn’t a joke!” Sam snarled. “He said he loves you in there, Alex. He _said_ it. In front of me, Bobby, Cas – he said it in front of everybody. He has never said those words about a woman, Alex, _ever_. This is not some fling or distraction for him, this is not about you being in a tough spot. He’s in love with you, damn it, and he will never recover if something happens to you. He’s lost everything, Alex. Our family, our home, his childhood, our friends—He never reaches out for anything anymore. You are the first thing that he has held tight to in such a long time and if you do something stupid like sacrifice yourself—” He bit off the rest of his words and spun away from me, his hands in his hair.

       I felt gut punched. It was one thing to know that our relationship was a big deal, but to hear from Sam’s perspective … Fuck. I was going to fuck this whole thing up, I just knew it. “…What do you want me to do, Sam? We both know he won’t stop until Krieger kills him. We _know_ it. Krieger owns me, Sam, and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it. _Tell me what to do_.”

       He turned back toward me, his eyes wretched. “I don’t know.”

       “Then don’t stand there and fucking tell me I'm not fighting hard enough. Don’t you fucking dare. If there’s a way we can get through this and Dean lives, then that’s what we do. If I need a damn touchstone to get me through hell again then don’t fucking judge me for needing it. I’ll do whatever I have to do, Sam.”

       “Damn it, Alex, that is not what I need to hear from you right now--”

       “I swear to you, Sam, I will save your brother. I’m not letting him die for me. Not now, not ever. You’re worried about how he’ll feel when it’s all said and done and I’m just worried about not dragging him into this fucking mess with me. I’ll do what I have to do, Sam, that’s all I can promise.”

       “I can’t lose either one of you, Alex, you hear me? I can’t do it.”

       “Just …” I pushed out a hard breath. “Just be there for him. Whatever happens, just take care of him, okay?”

       “Take care of him your damn self.” Sam snapped and walked back into the living room, leaving me standing desolately in the hallway.     

       I knocked my head back into the wall, closing my eyes. “I’m trying.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading!! I went back and made some adjustments to chapter 32 this week as well, so it may be worth a reread (nothing major, just tweaks to the characters interactions). Hope you all had a wonderful Thanksgiving! I added my email address to my profile so feel free to drop me a note if you love making friends in the Supernatural fandom universe as much as I do! 
> 
> As always, comments and kudos make my day and continue to inspire!
> 
> *I do not own Supernatural but sure do love borrowing the beloved characters and playing in their world for a short while.*


	34. Take A Breath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut ahead! Also, super long chapter. Apologies for making it hard to read in one sitting!

     Dean came around the doorway, his brow furrowed. “You okay?” He cast a look back into the living room. “Sam looked upset.”

     Knowing I couldn’t come up with a convincing lie, I grabbed hold of his flannel shirt and pulled him to me, burying one hand in his hair and pulled his mouth down to mine. The kiss was sloppy and fierce, more desperate than I cared to admit. “I need you,” I whispered against his lips, pressing up against him.

     His eyebrows flew up and he cast another glance back into the room. “What the hell did you and Sam talk about?” His mild refusal was weak, further undermined when his fingers slipped beneath the edge of my shirt.

     “Forget Sam. I need _you_.”

     “No, what you need is for me to patch you up correctly. Then we can—”

     “Come on, baby, please…” I pressed a kiss to the side of his neck.

     “No, Alex. Stop it.” He reluctantly pulled away from me and I stifled a growl of irritation. “We need to take care of you. Bobby and Cas are talking to other hunters and doing some research so we have a little time. I need to get you cleaned up.” With one last quick peck on my mouth, he hustled me up the stairs to his room. He closed the door behind us and crossed to the top drawer of his dresser. I stopped long enough to lock the door and dropped to his fluffy mattress, watching as he pulled out the items he needed. Every line of him was lean and muscled, his broad shoulders filling out the dark flannel shirt. He looked at me over his shoulder. “Strip.”

     I raised an eyebrow at him before following his directive, shedding the outer layers until I was in nothing but my underwear and bra. “Not even a drink first?” I teased.

     He smiled at me a little but his attention fell down to the Asuat. His jaw set as he came and settled on the bed facing me, one knee bent with his leg folded beneath him. Without a word he used some antiseptic wipes to clear the blood from my skin.

     When he pulled out a needle and thread I balked, losing all sense of playfulness. “I don’t need stitches, Dean.”

     “I say you do. Guess what, my vote trumps yours.”

     “Says who?!” I barked, dodging his hands.

     “I’m the one patching you up. I win. Now sit your ass down.”

     “I’m done with stitches, Dean. It’s not that bad – I’ll be fine.”

     “You need stitches,” he growled firmly. “Otherwise you’ll scar. Now sit _down_.”

     That deflated me. A sick feeling rolled into my stomach and I stretched out in front of him without a word. Damn. Just that little statement and warped insecurity flooded past all the other concerns filling my head, doing nothing but send a swirl of self-doubt to sit in my gut like a stone. I thought I was past this. We had come so far since the last time I had worried about scars.

 _Damaged. Filthy. Scarred._ The scars had pushed Dean away once before and worry started to niggle at me. What would happen if I was never able to heal? Krieger’s jagged strokes would be covering me from hip to ribs on one side. He would see it every time we were together. Fuck, who was I kidding? It wasn’t like we had that much more time together anyway. If we weren’t able to figure out how to separate me from Krieger—

     “What are you thinking?” Dean murmured, tearing off the medical tape to finish taping the gauze over the stitches.

     I jerked out of my thoughts and looked up at him, surprised it was already over. “Nothing.”

     He quirked an eyebrow at me. “No dice. Try again.”

     “Nothing, Dean, I’m fine. Thanks.” I sat up and pressed tentatively against the gauze. He must’ve put some numbing lotion or something on the entire area because the nagging pain was gone.

     “Lex.” He grabbed my elbow, keeping me from getting to my feet. “You got that faraway look in your eyes and it was like you didn’t even feel the stitches. Where are you?”

     I swallowed hard, wrestling with the sick sense of discomfort. Sure, I believed he loved me. Honestly truly, I did. But that didn’t mean part of him wasn’t always thinking about what I had been through, was disgusted with the things the demons had done to me. So much else had been going on, we hadn’t really talked through any of it. We had been together but the first time was in the midst of a trauma and the other time we had been so angry we could hardly see straight. Even now I just wanted to blaze ahead, throwing myself headlong back into the intimacy of being together, escaping the reality of what all I had been through. Maybe the euphoria of being with Dean would take over and block out the doubts circling in my mind. “I was just thinking of all the things I want to do to you.” I flashed him what I hoped was a sexy smile, but he just stared at me, unconvinced, and the sinking in my gut grew. 

      “Don’t try and bullshit a liar, baby.” His searching gaze scanned my face. “Don’t get me wrong, I’d like it if that’s what has you so focused. But you look like you’re dreading something, so I really hope you weren’t thinking about me.”

     Damn it all to hell. I pulled out of his grasp and wrapped my arms around my waist. “I just … I just realized I’ve been pushing you this whole time.”

     “Pushing me? I don’t understand.”

     I took a deep breath. Now that I’d opened the can of worms I might as well go all in. “Before Bobby interrupted us, you told me downstairs that you didn’t want to have sex and I kept pushing until I got you worked up. And just now, you told me you just wanted to fix me up and – and I realized I’m still pushing you on it. I’m sorry, I’m not trying to force you into something you don’t want, Dean—”

     “What?” Genuine shock cracked through his stolid expression. “You think _I_ don’t want to be with you?”

     I shrugged uncomfortably. “I’m the one that pulled you into the shower with me that first time. I’m the one that chased after you in the scrap yard. I know that you care about me, I do, but I also get that you’ve always hated what happened to me, hated their marks on me. I … I don’t think I can get rid of these, so I get it. We can be together without … that. I’m just sorry I keep pushing you for something you don’t want.”

     Fury raced through his features like an inferno and he got to his feet, every line of him suddenly tense and ready. “Catch me up here. You think I don’t want you because Krieger is a sick bastard and cut into you?”

     I lifted a shoulder. “Yes? You didn’t want me when I had the other scars, from him and all the others. I know you’re trying your best to make sure these don’t scar, but Dean, they’re deep. There’s nothing we can do to keep them from scarring. They’re always going to be there. So I get it--”   

     “That is the biggest load of bullshit I have ever heard from you!” He exploded. “Look me in the goddamn eye, Lex, and listen the fuck up. Fuck the scars. I care about _you_. Hell, haven’t you ever noticed how many scars _I_ have?” He tore his flannel shirt and black t-shirt over his head one handed, throwing them both on the floor beside the bed angrily. He jerked my hand from around my waist and pressed my fingers against a ridged scar that crossed his chest. “Here. This one I got from a vampire in Jefferson City.” He moved my fingers to a small dip in his collarbone. “This one? A Wendigo in Wichita.” An ugly pink pucker just beneath his ribs on the left, its freshness glaring now that I was paying attention. “This one I got from a ghost in Bozeman -- damn it, Lex, we’re in the middle of the biggest clusterfuck imaginable and you’re worried about some fucking scars.” He threw my hand away and paced away from the bed before turning on his heel. “How could you even think that scars would hold me back from you?” Genuine confusion was shining bright through the anger in his eyes.

     I suddenly felt very naked in just my underwear, even with the bare stretch of his skin before me. “It disgusted you before. I just thought—”

     “What the hell? Wait, you mean when Cas first brought you to Bobby’s?”

     I nodded silently.

     “Goddamn it, Lex!” Dean stood and buried his hands in his hair, his biceps bunching. “Are you serious right now?”

      I folded my hands tightly, losing the battle against the brittle frustration icing my veins. “When Cas first brought me to Bobby’s and we woke up together, you had me willing. Hell, you had me _begging._ ” I wrapped my arms around my waist protectively again. “You told me it was too much. That knowing what I had been through was too much for you. That I was _damaged._ ”

      “Come on, Lex, there’s no way I said that!”  
      “ _’What Stokes said they did, what all happened to you…I couldn’t do it, Alex… I just couldn’t do it.’_ ” I pulled even further away from him. “ _That_ was what you said to me—”

     He strode back to the side of the bed and grabbed a firm hold of my chin and forced me to look at him, giving my face a little shake. “Shut up and listen to me.”

     I froze in his grasp, pinned beneath his ferocity. 

     He let out a rough breath and the wildness in his eyes settled minutely. “First of all, take a deep breath. I never said – I never _meant_ to say that I thought you were damaged. That’s bullshit, I know that. You’re stronger than I can even imagine most days. The only reason – the _only one_ – that I pulled back that morning was because I was trying to put you first. I’ve been with girls, Lex, I’ve been with lots of them. They’re beautiful and sweet and soft and everything my world isn’t. I’m not going to apologize for it and I’m not going to regret it. That was all before you. But never once have I thought about them like I think about you. All I want is to just _be_ with you.” He shifted his grip on me and his green eyes flashed with intensity.   

     “You’ve been through hell. You have every reason in the world to not want to be with me. And the things you went through –” His grip tightened. “I still don’t understand how you made it through. But that morning you’re talking about -- you were skittish as hell and I knew better – I fucking knew better than to make a move. I’m sorry I let things get out of control before I remembered that I had decided to give you space, give you as much room as you needed to heal. You have to understand, pushing you away that morning was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.

     “And for the record, I don’t give a fuck how you look or what you’ve been through. I’m sorry whatever I said that day made you feel like I didn’t want you – shit, baby, I never want you to feel broken with me. Not ever. The only reason I get upset when we talk about what you’ve been through is because it still hurts you. You need to understand, this thing between us is _not_ about sex. It’s hot as fuck between us, baby girl, but that is not why I’m sitting here trying to convince you that this is worth it. Please, Lex. I’m not the best at words, but I need you to know how much I want whatever this is between us. Let me show you how much this is real. That the way I feel about you is real. Please, Lexi.” He finally released the death grip he had on my chin so that he could tuck my hair behind my ear with an achingly gentle stroke. “Say something, sweetheart.”

     My heart was pounding in my chest and it terrified me how much I wanted to believe him. “…Dean?”

     “I’m right here, baby girl, I’m not going anywhere.”

     Suddenly, it was all too much. For all the flaws between us and all the mistakes we made along the way, what we had together was the only thing holding all of my shattered pieces in place. “Dean, I …” I looked at him, at the steady green of his eyes and the hard lines of his face. _I need you_. But for all the times that the words had come so easily, teasing or urgent, demanding or playful, they simply would not come now. But damn it, I needed him like I needed air to breathe.

     Dean got this look on his face, one I had never seen before. It was soft and tender, a steadiness radiating from him as if he had all the time in the world. He was suddenly completely calm. “I love you, Lex,” his voice was rough. “We’re heading into a dark patch but we will get through it, just like we always do. I’m going to be right there beside you.” He pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead and pulled me against his chest, all that bare skin warming me. He wrapped me in his arms and shifted us so his back was against the headboard and I was stretched between his legs, my cheek resting on his chest. Tentatively I tucked my arms around his waist, pressing closer to the beat of his heart.

     “Hey,” he whispered, stroking the side of my face to bring my lips to his. He pressed a warm kiss to my mouth, the smallest hint of his tongue on the inner curve of my lip. I lifted into it, craving a deeper connection. His hand was against my collarbone, his thumb resting over the fluttering heartbeat at the base of my throat. I was surrounded by Dean and suddenly it was enough. Enough to hold the pieces of me together, enough to hold the darkness at bay.

     “Come closer,” he whispered against my mouth, the strength of his arm at my back drawing me deeper into the sprawl of his lap. “I need you, baby girl. I need your warmth around me, I need to be buried so deep inside you that I never have to worry about losing you. Please, Lexi. Be with me? I want you,  _all_ of you, no matter the scars or ugliness. I just want _you_.” He kissed me softly again.

     Without a word I separated myself from his embrace, settling back on my heels so I could simply look at him for a moment. Those green eyes watched me questioningly, but that bone deep certainty drew me like a moth to flame. I wanted to burrow into it, to pull it deep within myself. Dean was my safe haven, my shelter to run to in trouble or in pain. My self-consciousness seemed ridiculous in the face of that certainty and I knew with every fiber of my being that he meant what he said. That no matter what, the bond between us was strong enough to weather what was coming. His gaze ran slowly over every inch of my body, lingering on my tattoo for a long moment before gradually coming back to mine, and I slowly unhooked the clasp on my bra and let the straps slide off my shoulders. His eyes tracked the slow descent until I was revealed completely, and a small breath escaped him. He had seen me before several times but not like this, never like this with all the emotion humming between us and time to enjoy experiencing each moment. Slowly, reverently, he ran his fingertips across my collarbone, sending a tingle down my spine. His fingertips were rough with callouses but his touch was gentle. That roughness dragged down the slope of my breast until he cupped the weight of me in his palm, his thumb making a slow pass across the tip as a whimper escaped the back of my throat. He straightened, pulling away from the headboard until we were only a breath apart. “You are so beautiful, Lex. My Lex.” He buried his other hand in the hair at the nape of my neck, drawing me in for a deep and drugging kiss. “I need to be inside you, baby girl.”

     Without a word I slipped out of my panties and he shed his remaining clothes. He palmed the back of my thighs and pulled me into position just above him, his eyes darkening. “I want to go slow for you, Lex, you deserve me taking the time to make it last forever. But—”

     I was right there with him. I bent forward and pressed a kiss against his mouth, licking my way into it with growing insistence. The simmering intensity between us quickly escalated the kisses to breathless and demanding, both of us deeply aware that his cock was resting just at the entrance to my body. The air around us began to heat as I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, the full weight of my torso pressing against his chest. I pulled back just enough to whisper in his ear, “I don’t want slow, Dean, I want to be able to feel every inch of where you've been. I want to feel empty without you inside me--” I thrust my hips down, driving his shaft into the heated depths of my body.

     The motion punched the breath from his lungs and he stiffened, tendons straining in his neck. I didn’t wait for him to get his breath back before lifting and repeating the downward driving stroke. Fuck, but he felt amazing. He filled me completely—

     He banded his arm around my waist, keeping our bodies joined as he rolled me over to my back with a fiery light in his eyes. He settled between my thighs, pressing himself even deeper inside me. Sweat broke out on my skin as he started lunging into my body with deep, driving strokes that claimed me. Fuck Krieger. I belonged to _Dean_. Beads of sweat started rolling down his chest and dropping onto my skin searingly, and I couldn’t resist arching up close enough to run my tongue along the scar on his chest.

     “More,” I growled, licking his taste from my lips challengingly.

     His eyes lit with the request and he pulled out, spinning me over onto my hands and knees and pressing a heavy hand on my shoulders, guiding them down to the mattress with my ass still raised. He grabbed my hip with one hand while burying his other in my hair. He gave my long hair a tug that sent tingles crawling all over my scalp as he bent over me, his sweaty chest pressed all along my back. Every inch of my skin on fire for him. He nipped at the skin between my shoulder and neck, exploding heat low in my belly. “You want more?” He whispered, his breath hot on my ear, “I’ll give you more.”    

     He straightened and drove his cock into my core, wrenching a deep groan from my chest. I was so full I could hardly catch my breath. He felt massive, filling every inch of me with a stretch that was just on the good side of uncomfortable. He pulled out only to thrust back in to the hilt and drive the air from my lungs again. Over and over he pounded into me until fractured pleading noises were jolted from me with every driving thrust. My skin felt stretched too tight and my breasts were dragging along the sheets with every motion, all of the sensations beginning to throw my system into chaos. Dean’s hand left my hair and tucked underneath me, his rough fingers dragging small tight circles over my clit. “Come on, baby, go over for me. Fuck, your noises are driving me crazy. Come on, baby, you feel so tight—” A deep groan escaped him as I clenched down, a tremor warning that I was there, that I was about to shatter into a million pieces. Everything went white for a moment, pleasure eclipsing all thought as I burst apart and suddenly I could hear Dean’s thoughts, feel his emotions as clear as my own.

_Fuck yeah, take me inside you. Look at that pretty ass all turned up for me. You’re all mine, Lexi girl, and I’ll never let you forget it. Fuck, you’re so tight, take me just a little deeper—Come for me, Lex. Clench those muscles nice and tight--_

     The heated demand in his thoughts sent me straight over the edge into another orgasm and he tumbled right over with me with a shout, the searing heat of his release filling me. My wrenching orgasm seized every muscle, the pleasure so intense it almost hurt. A single moment passed before we caught our breath and Dean pulled out of me, wrapping an arm around me and collapsing both of us to the bed. An empty ache settled inside me as he pulled me back into his chest and wrapped his arms around me tightly, his breath still heaving as it skittered over my damp skin. “Damn, you’re going to kill me, baby girl. That was … fuck.” His voice was rough as he buried his face deeper into my hair, nuzzling the back of my ear. It was several long moments before he got the power of speech back. “I’m never letting you out of this bed, woman.”

     I tucked my face into the curve of his arm beneath my head, hiding a smile.

     “Hey. Let me see those pretty eyes,” he murmured, breath rasping.

     I turned enough I could press a soft kiss on his mouth, blinking up and fighting not to get lost in his gaze.

     “There’s my beautiful Lex.” He pressed his sweaty forehead to mine, just enjoying the moment of peace that eased over us.  

     I ran my fingers along his bicep, tracing the curve of his muscles, thrilling inwardly every time a little aftershock of sensation skittered through his body. “…Dean?”

     “Yeah.”

     “I can feel you.”

     He grinned and cracked open one eye to look at me, pressing his still hard cock against me. “I hope so.”

     I rolled my eyes, pressing my hips back into him enough to make him open both eyes and look down at me interestedly. “Not what I meant. But if you’re not satisfied—”

     Just that fast he pulled me beneath him and kissed me thoroughly, settling himself between my thighs. “Greedy little thing, aren’t you?”

     I made a low noise as he notched himself up against me, my body barely protesting as he slid into me gently. He flicked a glance at me cautiously. “Too sore?”

     I moaned as he stroked inside me slowly, his presence already easing the bone deep ache. “Never too sore. But Dean—”

     He strengthened his thrusts so he was rocking into me steadily, his green eyes pinned to mine.

     “—I need, I mean I want --- shit, that feels good.” My thoughts scattered as he bent down and drew my breast into his mouth, sucking with deep dragging pulls that curled heat deep in my belly.

     “What were you saying, Lex?” A knowing grin teased his mouth and I arched upward, soundlessly begging him to continue. He shifted to the other side, rolling the tip between his lips before biting down just enough to send pleasure streaking through me. A low groan escaped him when I clenched down hard on his length inside me. “I swear, someday I am going to take my time with you,” he swore seriously, his brow furrowing just a hint as his strokes deepened.

     A hard knock at the door broke his rhythm and Dean swore, dropping his head to my collarbone.

     “Dean?  Have you seen Alex?”

     Sam.

     I nibbled on Dean’s neck and he shuddered. I could feel the sensation run from the base of his neck all the way down his spine. “She’s here,” he growled into my skin.

     Silence.

     “Oh.” Another beat of silence.

     “Go away, Sam.” Dean started moving again, his cock driving into me tantalizingly slow. I muffled a low groan and Dean raised an eyebrow at me. _Great._ There was challenge in his eyes now, as if my silence was a personal affront.

     “Bobby wants to know if you got her stitched up.”

     Dean hiked my legs up over his hips and I hooked my ankles across his lower back, bracing myself for whatever he was about to do to try and blow my mind. “I took care of her, Sam.” He grinned at me like a cocky little shit and I choked on a snort as he changed his angle, dragging over a spot that made stars burst behind my eyelids. I arched my neck, fighting to keep any noise from escaping me.

     “Dean, you better not be doing anything to aggravate that Asuat—”

     “Damn it, Sam, _go away_. She’s here and she’s fine. Now beat it.”

     Even through the door I could hear Sam’s snort of disgust as he walked away. Dean pulled out of me and plunged back in, driving the air from my lungs and drawing a high whine from me that I couldn’t suppress. All thoughts of Sam fled as Dean determinedly pursued making me shatter in his arms again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!! Still figuring out my way around the smut chapters. Please let me know if it doesn't flow well or if there are parts that pull you out of the moment. I never intended to put any smut in this story but it just sort of happens so ... help me make it enjoyable to read! lol Love to hear your thoughts and feedback!
> 
> *I do not own Supernatural but sure do love borrowing the beloved characters and playing in their world for a short while.*


	35. Present

     I lay sprawled against the headboard, the sheet lazily tucked around me as I drowsily watched Dean play with the natural curl at the end of my long hair. He drew patterns on my skin with the curls, using the curve of my shoulder as a canvas. He had been idly playing for the past ten minutes and an adorable squint of concentration had started a small furrow in his brow. I couldn’t hold back a smile as I reached over and smoothed it for him. He grinned at me without moving, every inch of his body relaxed.

     “So …” He murmured softly, green eyes blinking at me contentedly.

     “So.” I echoed, unable to keep the tenderness I was feeling from my tone. This man was my world. No matter how long or short the rest of my life would be, my existence was inexplicable tied to his now. I couldn’t imagine facing a single moment without knowing he was there fighting beside me.

     “I got you something.” He couldn’t hold back a tiny grin and his eyes brightened.

     That drew my full attention. “What?”

     “I got you something. Not a present really, but I did some shopping when you got your tattoo.” He rolled out of bed without a stitch of clothing on and I watched him cross the room to grab a small bag from the corner. Lord, he had a fine ass. He turned and caught me staring, his eyebrows raising and his grin going full blown. “Like what you see, Lexi girl?”

     Hell. I was exhausted, every muscle in my body still quivering, but I couldn’t stop the warm curl of lust in my belly. He was going to kill me. “Maybe I’m just trying to see what you brought me.” I tried to play off my reaction to him with a teasing smile.

     He sauntered back over to me, the slight bow in his legs only making his hips swing that much more. He raised an eyebrow. “Maybe you were just checking out my ass.”

     I rolled my eyes and huffed something unintelligible. He tossed the bag onto the far side of the bed and launched himself at me, ignoring my screech of surprise as he wrestled me onto my back and tickled me relentlessly. Sheer shock had me squealing in equal parts pleading and outrage. He didn’t stop until the only sounds escaping me were gales of choked laughter.

     “Surrender, surrender!” I giggled breathlessly. “Have some mercy!”

     “Admit it – you think I’m sexy.” He growled, eyes bright with delight.

     “You’re sexy! God, _stop_ \--!” I squealed again as he flipped me over effortlessly and tickled along the sides of my spine.

     “Say it again!”

     “ _You’re sexy!_ Now give me my present!” I scrambled to try and escape him but he just laughed, a deep belly laugh that warmed every inch of me. He turned me over to face him and my laughter eased as I took in the sight of a tousled and flushed Dean Winchester looming over me. Damn, he took my breath away.

     “Do you really think you deserve a present?” He teased, sneaking in to steal a quick kiss.

     “I put up with you, don’t I?” I said imperiously, arching a brow at him that was ruined by a renegade snicker.

     He kissed me again, his warm lips lingering. “That’s true.” He gave me one last quick peck before settling back on his heels. “Do I get bonus points if I make you dinner?"  
     "Well, it's certainly not losing you any."

     He rolled his eyes at my attempt to stay straight faced. "Just wait ‘til you taste what I’ve got planned for dessert. Then we can talk about how many bonus points I get for cooking. But first up is this.” He snagged the bag from where it was ready to topple off the edge of the mattress and rested it on his knee, suddenly looking a bit nervous. “It’s really not much of anything. You haven’t had any clothes of your own since Cas brought you back and don’t get me wrong, seeing you in my clothes is sexy as hell—”

     “Dean.” I cut him off gently, crooking my fingers for him to hand it over.

     “Just, don’t think it’s much of anything, because it’s not.” I got my hands around the loops of the plastic sack and nearly got a peek inside when he tried to tug it back from me, regret suddenly crossing his features. “Wait, Alex, forget it, it’s stupid—”

     I managed to keep from jerking it from his grasp but just barely. I stuffed it on my side opposite from him and gave him a warning look. “Dean, calm down.”

     He huffed out a breath and ran a hand through his tousled hair. “Just—you don’t have to wear it. And if you hate it we can take it back and you can pick something else out. I just saw it and thought of you—”

     Curiosity bubbled up within me. What could he have possibly picked out?

     It was a dress.

     I drew out yards of a beautiful deep green fabric, speechless at its simple femininity. The dress had a basic neckline that would rest just at my collarbones, with three quarter inch sleeves and a loose length that would hit me just at mid-thigh. It was very simple in style but had corseted lacing across the front that would tuck and draw the eye to the curves of my body. It was feminine but not fancy, something that would be completely comfortable for just putzing around Bobby’s house. I had never been picky about clothes—as long as they covered me I didn’t really care about the details, but this … this was perfectly me.

     “It’s the same green as your eyes and I could just picture you kicking ass in it,” Dean’s words tumbled over each other and he watched me warily.

     I raised an eyebrow at him. “You think I’m good enough to kick ass in a dress?”

     Some of his tension eased when I didn’t throw it back at him in disgust. “You could kick ass in anything, babe. Hell, you could kick ass in _nothing_.” He waggled an eyebrow at me playfully, his nervousness breaking my heart just a little.

     I stroked the material gently, trying to figure out what to say.

     “Like I said, we can take it back. I’ve never bought a girl clothes before and I don’t even know if it’s the right size—”

     I grabbed a hold of his hand where it was fidgeting with the edge of the comforter. “I love it.”

     He stilled. “Really?”

     “Really really.” I squeezed his hand and gave him the biggest brightest smile I could manage. “I’ve never been a dress kind of girl, but this one … it’s perfect.”

     He stroked down the side of my face, his nervousness bleeding off and an aching tenderness taking its place. “You’re really beautiful, you know that?”

     “This dress is beautiful,” I corrected, running my hands over the fabric again.

     “ _You_ are beautiful and you deserve beautiful things. I want to spend the rest of our lives finding you beautiful things to enjoy, Lex. Now put it on so I can see you in it. Please.” He tacked on the request.

     “All right.” I rolled my eyes. “But I’m showering first!” I put the dress back in the bag and noticed that he had a pair of leggings and sturdy boots in there as well. I couldn’t hold back a grin as I scrambled to my feet and wrapped the sheet around me. He may want to see me in pretty things but he knew me well enough that they better damn well be practical as well.

     “Want some company?” He asked roughly, watching me hot foot it across the room while trying not to lose the sheet.

     “Ha!” I burst out, casting him a warning glance. “I remember what happened last time we showered together.”

     “Exactly. Which is why I think we _should_ —”

     I shook my head at him, laughing. “If you want me to stay awake through dinner, I better shower alone.”

     He pouted at me, dropping back against the mattress, the comforter on the bed just barely covering his interesting bits. He tucked his hands beneath his head and flexed, watching me swallow as he put on a show. All his wonderful muscles were just waiting to be stroked, kissed, _licked_ …

     I shook myself out of the lust-induced stupor. “No fair. You want me in this dress, you need to give me some time to prepare. Who knows when we’ll get another chance to—” I stumbled over my words, catching myself before putting a dark spin on our time together. I flashed him an over bright smile and tucked the sheet higher into my armpits. “Stay here. I’ll be ready before you know it.”

     I closed the door before I could watch the brooding worry settle back over his features. Damn it, everything in our little world had been perfect and I had to go and ruin it. I was going to wear the damn dress and I was going to look smoking hot for him while I did it. We were going to figure out this Krieger mess and move on with our lives. But somehow I couldn’t quite silence the nagging echo inside us both that warned things would never be quite this perfect again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy, my readers! I had to get a little bit of lovely in there before more bad things start happening. Hope it made you smile.
> 
> *I do not own Supernatural but sure do love borrowing the beloved characters and playing in their world for a short while.*


	36. Favors Aren't Free

     Dean didn’t stay in the bedroom like I had ordered. Soft sounds reached me from downstairs and I gathered my nerve and headed that way. Damn him, I had killed sixteen demons all on my own and never once been this nervous. Bobby’s rumble reached me first as I swept down the hallway, then Dean’s sharp rebuke and Sam’s laughter, followed by Cas’s rough chuckle. Despite my tension I felt light, airy almost in the snug dress and I couldn’t remember the last time I had felt something so soft against my skin. Clothes were a necessity, a functional part of getting through each day but I hadn’t known that it could feel so good to look nice. I had even taken a minute to brush out my long hair – the first time since this whole snafu began – and get every single tangle out. From what I could see in the small mirror in the bathroom, I actually looked … good.

     I ran a hand through my hair one last time and sucked in a breath before walking blithely into the kitchen and spotted a seat next to Sam. I slid into it without hesitation and tried to catch up on the conversation I had been able to hear snippets of from upstairs.

     “Nope! Stop right there, sweetheart.” Dean’s voice cracked across the room as he turned from the stove, an oven mitt on one hand and a spatula in the other. He still looked relaxed and was wearing a black t-shirt and sweatpants, his bare feet poking out of the dragging cuffs. Seeing him in such a domestic way was like a punch to the gut. Was this what we had ahead of us? After this thing with Krieger, if there was an after, would I be spending nights in the kitchen while Dean cooked dinner, listening to Bobby, Sam, and Cas argue animatedly about anything and everything? It was terrifying to realize how very much I wanted that. I wanted to be part of this crazy family with every fiber of my being.

     “Stand up, turn around. Let me see,” Dean demanded with a twirl of his spatula, green eyes sparking at me playfully, taking the edge out of his tone.

     I fought back the flush creeping up my neck and stood back up, feeling every eye on me. God, this was awful. “Dean, so help me if you make me spin I will gut you with a dull knife,” I warned.

     “Are you in a _dress_?” Sam leaned back in his seat so he could see me more clearly.

     “I picked it out,” Dean boasted. “Fits her like a glove.” Dean could no more hold back the sexy twinkle in his eye than he could stop breathing.

     “You look beautiful,” Bobby said gently with a gruff smile. “Things have been a little hectic around here, and I know I can’t count on these two idjits to tell you right, so I’m just going to say it – scars or no scars, you’re a truly beautiful young woman. Dean’s a damn fool if he hasn’t made sure you know that, yet, dress or no dress.” He swallowed hard and a flush filled his cheeks and made his eyes crinkle.  

     I swallowed roughly and my words came out soft. "Thank you, Bobby."

     Dean flashed him an insulted look. “I’m no fool. She knows. Now come on and turn for me, baby, I want to see all of it.” Dean put down the spatula and set the mitt on the counter, grabbing hold of my hands to pull me out to the middle of the room.

     “If you make me twirl, Dean, so help me—” He smiled so big that his dimples appeared and I locked my jaw to prevent caving. “I don’t twirl.”

     “You looks gorgeous, baby girl. You always do.” He leaned into me, pressing a soft kiss to my cheek, dropping his voice to a husky murmur for my ears only. “Hell, Lex, all I can think about is getting you back _out_ of that dress. I just had you and my mouth’s watering, reminding me of all the places I haven’t kissed yet--”

     There was an odd sound behind me, like a crackle and hiss of flame. “My, my, aren’t you a ravishing thing.”

     The cold unflappable accent tipped me off that a stranger was within two fucking feet of me and had appeared out of thin air. I pulled the knife I had slipped behind the corset lacings and had it at the stranger’s throat before he took another breath. “Who. The fuck. Are you?” I demanded, pressing hard enough to draw a single drop of blood from the side of his throat. He simply raised an eyebrow at me and lifted his chin against my blade.

     “I’m Crowley, love. I’ve been waiting patiently to meet you but the boys seem to be rather stingy with the women in their lives.”

     Dean tried to tug me behind him but I held firm, refusing to back away from my target. “Why are you here? Are you with Krieger?”

     Crowley snorted. “If I were, do you think I’d be foolish enough to show up in this house uninvited?”

     “You’re never invited, Crowley.” Bobby rumbled, and I shot him a quick glance only to find that he was surprisingly relaxed, still seated in his chair.

     “Yet you show up here all the damn time,” Sam pointed out, also without heat or surprise.

     Their lack of alarm didn’t calm my own. “So what do you want?”

     He tilted his head at me, completely disregarding the blade against his skin. “I told you – I’ve been wanting to meet you. There’s been quite a bit of juicy gossip floating around hell about you, darling. Is it true what they say? Did Krieger manage to do it?”

     I swallowed hard. Hell?

     Crowley seemed to pick up on my train of thought. With a flick of his finger a force of air shoved me back, sending me stumbling into Dean. My blade clattered uselessly to the floor. Crowley lifted an eyebrow, spreading his arms at his sides and executing a short bow. “Pleased to meet you, Alexis Lane Montgomery. I’m Crowley, King of Hell.”

     Well, fuck.

     “You are quite a bit prettier than the rumors say,” he prattled on and I eyed the distance to my knife on the floor, judging how quickly I could get it back in my hand. “Last I heard, you were still scarred and torn quite to bits by Stokes and his minions. Bum rap, that. If we had managed to get our hands on you first, we would have treated you with nothing but respect for your abilities. We would have still turned you into a Chinuitor, of course –that’s the only logical course of action with your bloodlines, sweet—but all the unnecessary pain and frustration…” He clicked his tongue. “Complete waste of time. But now that all that mess is taken care of …” He raised a bushy eyebrow at me. “You’re quite a prime piece of real estate, now. That is, as long as Krieger hasn’t managed to do the impossible. He was dipping his toes into some mighty deep waters last I heard.” His eyes ran over me in a way that made my skin crawl and that just pissed me off.

     I was wearing Dean’s dress and damned if I was going to feel like prey in it. I stiffened, maintaining eye contact with the King of Hell while bending over and picking up my blade nonchalantly and tucking it back behind the laces on my dress. “Prime real estate? That should earn me some respect regardless of whether I answer your questions. So keep your damn eyes to yourself.” Dean stepped up behind me and gave my hip a small squeeze of approval.

     Bobby snorted. “You heard the lady, Crowley. Be respectful or get the hell out of my house.”

     Crowley shifted, disgruntled. “I have just one simple question, love. _Does_ Krieger own you?”

     “Nobody fucking owns her,” Dean snarled, his grip tightening.

     Crowley lifted his brows at Dean’s passionate defense and I suddenly felt as if the scales had tipped somehow. Tension entered the room and Sam and Bobby slowly got to their feet, picking up on the shift immediately. “Interesting,” Crowley murmured, a bastardly little grin on his mouth as he watched as Cas stood taller in the corner, the blue of his eyes burning hotly at the demon. “You’ve become quite their little pet in such a short while, darling. The boys are such bleeding hearts for a lost cause. I guess that answers my question after all.”

     “Time for you to get the hell out of my house, Crowley,” Bobby said firmly. "You've worn out your welcome."

     “What a pity. I would’ve thought that you’d want to be privy to the information that I have about removing the Asuat.” With a negligent shrug, Crowley lifted his hand to snap his way out of the room.

     “Wait!” Dean shouted, pressing himself in front of me. “What do you know, Crowley?”

     The demon tipped his head pityingly. “Sometimes it’s just so pathetically easy with you boys. But you know I don’t hand favors out for free.”

     Dean gnashed his teeth together. “Name your price, Crowley.”

     He smiled devilishly and dropped me a wink. “Let me think on it.” With that, he snapped his fingers and disappeared.

     “Son of a _bitch_!” Dean slammed his fist into the wall and Bobby snapped a rebuke at him, but I couldn’t hear it over the roaring in my ears. Damn, damn, damn. Crowley was playing us, I knew it. He had only surfaced to find out if the rumors were true, but Dean had given himself away and now Crowley had all the leverage he needed to weasel a deal for virtually anything he wanted. The King of Hell thought he held all the cards now, but he didn’t realize that the next time we had words I would be going full Chinuitor on his ass. I would know if that skeevy little bastard was lying to me and I would get the answers we needed.

     “Alex?” Sam touched my elbow.

     All my senses were hyper aware with the adrenaline pumping through my veins and I could feel Dean’s emotions as if they were my own. Our connection was only strengthening with each passing moment and the instant Sam touched me Dean’s possessiveness started overriding his fury at Crowley. Dean’s building aggravation was not worth the brief comfort Sam offered, so I quickly pulled out of his grasp. “What, Sam?”

     He stepped back, giving me some space with a keen look at his brother. “It may seem insane, but Crowley’s smart. If anyone can find a way out of the Asuat, it _would_ be him.”

     “Are we really going to trust that son of a bitch?” Dean snarled. “He’s thrown us over more times than I care to remember.”

     “And saved both of our lives more than once,” Sam pointed out.

     Cas piped up. “Crowley may actually have the means and knowledge to help us remove the Asuat. I did not consider his knowledge of the dark lore or contemplate how it could aid us.”

     I ran my hands through my silky hair. “I don’t care what Crowley knows, there’s no way I trust that skeevy bastard farther than I can throw him. The last thing we need is another demon trying to claim me.” I shot Dean a look. “But now he definitely knows he can use you against me, smartass. Next time why don’t you just stamp your name on my forehead to make sure he doesn’t miss that we’re involved.”

     Dean arched an eyebrow at my sarcasm. “What do you want me to do, hide it?”

     “If it’s going to protect you, then hell yes!” I started pacing across the faded yellow tiles and felt like the room was shrinking with every pass. “Crowley must have an angle. Even if he _does_ know how to remove the Asuat, that just frees me up for _him_ to claim. We can’t go at this half-assed, Dean. Krieger—”

     “Krieger isn’t going to get anywhere near you,” Dean interrupted. “It’s just not happening.”

     “You need to get your head out of your ass, boy, and start thinking about this thing realistically.” Bobby took off his hat and ran a hand through his thinning hair. “None of us want to even think about it but the reality is if he can get to her dreamwalking then he sure as hell can find out where she is. This is not your run of the mill demon, Dean.”

     “I don’t care who this mother fucker is, Bobby, he’s not getting Alex. Nobody is.” Dean’s flashing green gaze dared anyone to disagree. “We have to make a deal with Crowley. Figure out what he knows.” He held up a hand to stop the flood of words beginning to tumble out of my mouth. “I understand what you’re saying, Lex, but if Crowley can at least get the mark off you we have a chance. _Then_ we can figure out how to handle Crowley. We should’ve killed him a thousand times over by now – we can handle him when the time comes.”

     Sam cleared his throat. “You really think you could do it, Dean? You two have been through a lot.”

     What the fuck? Dean and the King of hell?

     “We don’t have any other options unless you three managed to scrounge something up.” Dean crossed his arms on his chest.

     Bobby humphed, settling his hat back on his head. “We’ll keep searching but we haven’t found a daggone thing that might be useful. When God tries to erase the details of something, it usually stays pretty hid.”

     “This is a horrible idea. Crowley’s lying,” I insisted. “He doesn’t know a damn thing and the next time he shows up I’m going to prove it to all of you.”

     “How?” Cas watched me doubtfully.

     I lifted my chin. “The same way I handled Grady.”

     Everyone got quiet.

     “Don’t give me that look, Dean,” I warned him, glaring daggers and trying to keep my cool. “I can handle Crowley.”

     “He may look like a chump, Alex, but he’s powerful. I’ve seen him disintegrate people before. Literally with a snap of his fingers.”

     “I’m a goddamn Chinuitor.” I straightened to my full height, shaking out the bottom of my skirt and hiding the angry tremor in my hands. “I can fucking handle a two-bit demon, king or no king.”

     Cas gave me a strange look. “Alex, Crowley is not someone to trifle with--”

     “You were right, Cas.” I fought back the anger and frustration beating at me from Dean. “You said I was still an empath and you were _right._ Next time I’ll be ready and I’ll be able to see if Crowley is lying.”

     “What do you mean? You can feel everyone’s emotions again?” Bobby’s brow crinkled.

     I swallowed, wishing I had taken the time to explain what I had been trying to tell Dean earlier. “All I know is that I can feel Dean. Sometimes, I can even read his thoughts.”

     Dean threw me a startled look and I reached for him mentally, finding a flood of words already waiting for me. _What the fuck? Can you read my mind right_ now?

     I gave him a small nod and he jerked back. _Then tell me what number I’m thinking of. F—_

     “Four.”

_Six--_

     “Sixteen. Twenty. One hundred and eighty-two. Seriously, Dean. Give me a challenge.”

His green eyes sharpened, a muscle jumping in his jaw, the connection between us taut as a bowstring. _I love you more than life itself and the world can burn to the ground around us as long as we’re together._

I swallowed hard, repeating it back to him softly.

     Silence fell.

     “How long have you been able to read minds?” Bobby frowned at me, eyes narrowed beneath the brim of his ball cap, puzzling this new information over.

     “It’s only with Dean, and it hasn’t been long.” A slow flush crept up my neck and I cleared my throat, hoping he wouldn’t ask the exact moment it started.

     “Have you tried to read anyone else?” Sam asked me warily.

     “No.”

     Cas watched me carefully. “Alex, you and Dean have formed a very special bond. I do not believe telepathy is part of your gifts, it may just be a byproduct of your link to him.”

     Sudden cold chills raced down my spine. “What do you mean, link?”

     Cas arched an eyebrow. “You two have weathered a great deal together. You have also been intimate with him more than once. In certain special … cases … that closeness carries over into other areas. It is logical to assume that with your added strengths factored in, being more closely connected to Dean would allow you more access into his mind. It is instances like yours that feed the belief in soul mates.”

     Fuck. Dread sucked every ounce of warmth from my body. “Dean, you can’t hear my thoughts, right?” Oh, God, no. Please, please, no-- “Please tell me you can’t.”

     Dean raised an eyebrow at me. “Is there something I should know?”

     “Just answer the damn question,” I snapped.

     Dean concentrated for a long moment before raising his curious eyes back to mine. “No, Alex. I can’t hear your thoughts. I can’t read your emotions, either. Apparently this only works one way.”

     Thank God. Relief nearly took out my knees and I dropped into the nearest chair gratefully. I sank my head into my hands, running my fingers roughly through the silk of my long hair. “Good.”

     “Why good, Alex?” Dean asked softly, dropping to his knees in front of me with his hands on my thighs. He tilted his face so he could peek through the curtain of my hair. I tucked my fingers into the collar of his flannel shirt, angry to find a fine tremor in my hands. _Because when Krieger hunts me down I don’t want you to be able to hear my thoughts, hear the pain or my screams. I have to be able to protect you from that._ “A girl needs to keep her secrets,” I said lightly, pissed to hear how thin my voice was. Damn it. I had been fighting so hard to be positive, had almost convinced myself to only think forwards and imagine a life with Dean on the other side of this thing. But it wasn’t until this moment that I realized there truly was only one way for this to go. I knew it and a searching look around the room showed me that Bobby and Cas knew it too. Dark shadows and understanding told me that they knew exactly why I didn’t want Dean to hear my thoughts, why a link between us like that was so dangerous. Damn Sam and Dean and the hint of hope in their eyes. They truly thought we could find a way out of this, find a way to be together, a way to circumvent this entire clusterfuck without seeing it through to its inevitable conclusion. Krieger was coming and I suddenly knew with stark clarity that the only option was to meet him head on.

     Slowly, I got to my feet. I knew what I had to do next. But first, I needed to find Crowley.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I do not own Supernatural but sure do love borrowing the beloved characters and playing in their world for a short while.*


	37. I Belong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please pay attention to the warnings and tags for this fic! If easily triggered, this is NOT the chapter for you. Send me a message (email is on my profile) and I will give you a quick rundown of what happens so you can keep up with the story. 
> 
> Love you all! Thanks for your dedication in reading and your interest in my story!

     Something inside me settled as I committed to this path, but the churning in my gut worsened. Just because this was the right choice didn’t mean that it wasn’t going to hurt like a son of a bitch. Or that Dean would ever forgive me.

     Dean squeezed my hands. “There’s not much we can do until Crowley decides what he wants. So let’s eat. I’ll finish up dinner.”

     I smiled at him, forcing down the dread that was hollowing me out. “Need some help?”

     He grinned. “Sure.” He managed to produce aprons for both of us. I turned and lifted an eyebrow at Bobby as I fingered the ruffles on my lime green checked apron.

     Bobby lifted a shoulder. “It was my wife’s.”

     I started to take it off. “Sorry, Bobby, I didn’t know—”

     He waved a hand at me. “Put that thing back on. No sense in it gathering dust. She’d want to see it stained and dirty.” He grimaced in a way that could almost be considered a smile but the darkness in his eyes told me his thoughts were far from his late wife. He got to his feet, squeezing my arm in passing and I got the distinct feeling that he felt the incoming darkness as much as I did. But I didn’t have time to worry about that. I was going to wring every moment of goodness out of this day that I possibly could, because as soon as Crowley decided how he wanted to play his little game, everything would change. I slammed the lid down on that train of thought. Darkness would come soon enough. No sense fretting about it now. I pulled in a deep breath, suddenly noticing the rich scent of browning onions and an underlying touch of spice in the air. “What are we making?”

     Dean frowned intently, rolling up the sleeves of his flannel. “Chicken.”

     I nudged him. “Thanks, smartass. Chicken what?”

     He lifted a shoulder. “I don’t think it has a name. There’s onions browning in butter here, broccoli and cheese sauce on the back burner, the chicken is baking right now with herb and parmesan cheese, and we’ll be adding these onions and rolling the chicken in cracker crumbs here in a minute. Oh, and mashed potatoes and blueberry muffins are ready there on the counter. Dessert is in the fridge but no peeking. It’s a surprise.” He pressed a soft kiss to my hairline and brushed a curl out of my face. “You ready? You can start crumbling the crackers.”

     I nodded, watching him closely and trying to commit every movement to memory. Watching Dean cook was like watching an artist paint. Every movement was fluid, natural, and you could almost see the worries gradually bleed off of him. By the time dinner was ready he was standing taller and his eyes were bright, eagerness relaxing the perpetual furrow in his brow. The constant weight he carried on his shoulders was gone for now and I paused at the counter, pressing my eyes shut tight and letting a desperate prayer form. _Cas, take care of him. If I can’t be here, I need to know you’ll let him cook. Bring him whatever ingredients he wants, just let him bake to his heart’s content. He’ll need you, Cas. Please be there for him, always._

     A soft hand squeezed my shoulder and I opened my eyes to find bright blue ones so near that I fought the instinct to step back. But Cas just squeezed my shoulder again and took the bowl of mashed potatoes from my hands silently.

     “Time for dinner!” Dean called loudly, jerking the strings of his apron untied and whipping it off over his head.

     The noise level in the kitchen rose as Sam jockeyed for a position at the front of the line and Dean raised his voice to try and tell everybody what was what. Cas felt it necessary to remind us all that he did not need to eat and Bobby told him to pipe down and shovel down whatever was put in front of him. My chest ached as my love for the people in this room grew. Damn them all. Before this mess I had been on my own for a long time. Three years since Grady had left me behind and I had been content. I had forged a life for myself and stayed out of trouble, keeping my interaction with people to a minimum whenever possible. But now I felt like there was a gaping hole in my chest knowing that I might never have another night like this, that I wouldn’t be here to make sure Dean didn’t push everyone away, I wouldn’t be able to make Sam smile and have long talks with Bobby. And Cas … our friendship was so fresh and there was so much I didn’t know about him. I desperately wished that I had more time, but I felt as if I could hear my freedom passing with every breath. Damn Krieger and this whole mess. I belonged here, with them. They needed me as much as I needed them.

     I was carrying my drink to the table when my vision suddenly darkened and I found myself crashing toward the floor. Everything went mercifully black before I hit the ground.

     _Welcome back, slut. Enjoy your time away?_

     Krieger. The son of a bitch was dragging me to my feet with a handful of hair before I got my eyes fully open.

     “Fuck you,” I hissed, glaring daggers at him as his grip tightened. He drew my neck into a painful arch and yanked me close. We were in the cellar again, but things were sharp this time, clear. I was fully aware that this was a dream. Unfortunately, Krieger was all too real and the sudden ache in my side sent a wave of fury through me. “I’ll never heal for you, you sick son of a bitch. You’re wasting your time.”

     A twisted grin crossed his face. _You think that’s what this little visit is about? If that was all I needed I wouldn’t go through all this dream walking shit and would just snatch you up._ He tilted his head as he watched me searchingly and a sudden searing pain blistered open in my head. _Ah. Of course. Nestled right in at Bobby Singer’s. Of course you stayed with them like a bitch in heat._ His grip changed and my neck popped at the painful shift. _Just had to spread your legs for whatever cock came along, didn’t you? You always were such an eager bitch._

     “Fuck you!” I screeched, launching myself at him and banishing all memories of him shoving his way inside me, of the tearing blinding pain that had never seemed to end.

     He roared as I dragged my nails across his face and slammed a knee into his crotch. He slapped my clawing hands away, using his grip on my hair to force me to bend backward. The pressure on my spine sent flaring pain up my back and thrust me off balance, the sensation of bending beneath him and watching his vicious face peer down at me shifting my attacks to defensive at best. We struggled soundlessly as his face curled into a sneer. _You whore. You liked it, you know you did. Your body was always so deliciously responsive to me._ He clutched the front of my dress and tore it straight down the middle, the beautiful fabric shredding to tatters.

I roared ferociously and my flailing attack finally landing a sounding blow to his throat. He choked, throwing me away from him and I skidded across the floor before slamming into a rock wall, the impact making my head ring. _There now, you’re beginning to look more like yourself. Blood on your face and your clothing in shreds. I’m sure once I have you beneath me again you’ll remember your place. I certainly have missed that body._ My shredded clothing disappeared in a blink and I swore nastily, refusing to cower before him. It was just a dream—I couldn’t worry about my dress, it would be just fine once I woke up form this nightmare. But like hell I was going to let him get away with destroying it here. I got to my feet, fists clenching and advancing on him quickly. He threw his head back and laughed. _My, my, those Winchesters sure have let you have a long leash, pet. You have become quite strong willed in our time apart. I look forward to breaking you in again._

     “You think you can break me?” I hissed. “With what? Your tiny dick? You think I’ll burst into tears when you put your slimy fucking hands on me again? Go right ahead. See what the fuck happens.” I reached for the heat inside, forcing my way past the hazy resistance of Krieger’s power. I relished the tingle in my fingertips as warmth started burning brightly in my core and I reveled in its growing strength. I tucked my head and ran full force at Krieger with a primal cry. I slammed into him, my hands flat on his chest, driving my explosive energy into his body. A raging roar tore from him as his skin burst under the pressure, blood and meaty flesh covering me. With a pained bellow, he grabbing my arms and fought me away from him, his unrelenting strength forcing me to spin, my bare back pressed to his bloody front.

      _You thought it would be that easy?_ He hissed. I _made you what you are!_ I _gave you your powers! How_ dare _you use them against your maker?!_

Despite his furious anger and the fact he was still fucking alive, Krieger’s chest was a mess of bloody gashes against my back. My thoughts spun desperately. Maybe his wounds here carried over to his body in real life. If we could just find where he was hiding in real life—

      _Fuck you, you filthy whore. You’ve forgotten I have power over you._ I _control you. You’re tied to me for eternity. You feel like fighting for eternity, bitch?_ Krieger wrestled me over to a table that appeared, a table that was a mirror image of where he had cut the Asuat into me the first time. Damn this fucking cellar. I hated the sight of it with every fiber of my being, even knowing it wasn’t real. Krieger shoved a hand into my hair and slammed me into the table, bent at the waist. He kicked my legs apart and I flailed against him, trying to throw my head back against his grasp, to hit him in the chest, to hit him in the face, anything. _You think you’re impervious to pain now? You think because you can heal yourself that rape has no meaning? What will Dean Winchester do when you wake, torn to shreds and dripping my seed down your legs? You think only the Asuat is impervious to your healing? I can do_ anything _to you in this dream and spell the damage to refuse your healing. I could kill you if I wanted. But that would take all of the fun out of breaking you down again._

“Fuck you, you bastard.” I snarled, shoving away from the table only for him to slam me down again, rope appearing and snaking around my flailing wrists, anchoring them at the small of my back. He shoved my face harder into the tabletop, splinters raking down my cheekbone. “You think I’m afraid of a little pain? Do your worst. We know where you are. We’re coming for you.”

     _I eagerly await your arrival. However, I believe I’ll be the only one coming in this dream. You haven’t earned the right._

     The sound of his belt being undone short-circuited my brain. Goddamn it. I was stronger than this. I had to be stronger than this.

     _What, no smart ass remarks? Are you beginning to remember your place? Beneath me? Taking whatever I give you? Accept my ownership of you, Alexis. You belong to me._

     His words lit fury up inside me, a bright burning beacon that banished all thoughts of fear. I was a fucking Chinuitor. I could take this fucking bastard down. Cold calculation eclipsed all thought and I leaned more heavily into the table, my heart pounding in my chest as I started counting the seconds as his zipper was dragged down. Three, two, one… I rolled to my side and slammed my foot into his revealed crotch, doubling him over in agony. His break in concentration disintegrated the rope around my wrists and I threw myself at him, blasting an atomic wave of fury through his hunched body. “Fuck you and your damn Asuat. I belong to Dean fucking Winchester. No matter what you fucking do to me, I’ll _always_ be his.”

     Krieger roared and the entire dream exploded, the mirage of the cellar bursting into black tipped shards of glass as we were flung far apart. We were surrounded by a swirling darkness, a high shrieking wind blowing around us and whipping my hair into a frenzy. Krieger stumbled to his feet, suddenly looming larger and darker than I had ever seen him. His eyes were soul-sucking black holes as blood dripped down his face. “You fucking cock slut--I’ll destroy him! I’ll send him to hell in pieces and you’ll never dare to say his name in my presence again! You’re mine, goddamn it. _Mine._ I created you. I built you from nothing. _Me_. No one else will take you from me! Do you fucking understand me? _Mine!_ ”

    The darkness solidified in front of me and I was slammed face down again, bent in half with my legs forced wide open and my wrists tangled in the writhing darkness, pulled until I could feel the joints separating. He had taken the full force of my power _twice_ and he was still fucking standing! _Wake up, damn it! Wake up!_

     “You _will_ know who you belong to. You will beg for his life and I will make you watch his death a thousand times over.” He was there suddenly, at my back, his blood slick hands clutching my waist as he slammed into me, forcing a searing wave of white fiery pain knifing through my body. I jerked in the restraints, fighting to hold onto the waning power inside me, fighting to use the power that was left as a weapon but my frantic grab for control had it simply slipping through my grasp. He pulled out and forced his way into me again, the tearing pain blowing past my resistance and forcing a pained cry from my lungs. I choked on it, gritting my teeth and twisting it into a rebellious snarl of anger. I had been through this before. I could handle this. I could. There was nothing he could do that hadn’t already been done—

     “Open your eyes, beloved. Watch the plans I have for your lover. Watch!” He roared, jerking my head up with a wrenching pull. The swirling darkness around us shifted, solidified. Dean was in front of me, on his knees, every inch of him battered and bleeding. He wasn’t restrained in any way but he was wavering as if fighting such excruciating pain that he couldn’t stay upright. He coughed jaggedly and blood spewed from his mouth. A bull whip solidified out of the darkness and cracked loudly, drawing a high keening cry from Dean as blood welled in a clean precise line across his muscular back. Again and again that whip struck out, layering Dean’s back with impossibly precise destruction as my tears began to fall.

     “He’ll die in agony, because of you. He’ll beg for death – the great Dean Winchester! will beg and plead for release from the agony of living because of knowing _you_. You brought that pain on him. You did it. He’ll curse you. He’ll curse ever having met you. Damn you, Alexis.” He gave a particular brutal thrust with a relishing groan. “l own you. Every creature in this universe will see my mark on you and know that you are mine. The harder you fight me the longer I make Dean Winchester pay for your stubbornness. _You. Are. Mine-_ -”

           

    “Damn you! Wake the fuck up!”

     I burst through the murkiness and jackknifed upright, slamming into several people hovering over me. “ _No!”_

     “Alex, baby, calm down—you’re all right. You’re safe, you’re here. We’re all right here!” Dean soothed, touching my hand.

     I fought back, slapping his hands away and shoving away from all the people around me. Too close, they were all too fucking close— “Let me go, just let me go!”

     “Take a breath, darlin’, it was just a dream,” Bobby said roughly, stretching to his full height.

     “It _wasn’t_ \--! Krieger said, he—he…” I gulped back a sob, fighting to focus fighting to banish the tearing pain that was still running through my body. “Let me go, let me the fuck go!” I fought them all back, struggling against the calming hands and the soothing touches. I struggled to my feet and stumbled out into the hallway. Air, god, why wasn’t there enough _air_?

     “Lex!” Dean hollered, following me out. “Damn it, tell me what happened!”

     Visions of agony flashed across his beloved features and Krieger’s promise rang in my ears. _The harder you fight me —_ “Crowley, I have to find Crowley!”

     “Lex! Damn it, you have to calm down!”

     “I can’t, Dean, you don’t understand--!”

     He grabbed my face with both hands, jerked me to a stop. “Talk to me,” he demanded.

     I sucked back another sob, gripping his wrists tightly. “He’s too strong, Dean, I can’t take him down. I tried, fuck, I tried. He’s too fucking strong!” My legs buckled beneath me and I sank to the floor, dragging him with me. Agony pierced through me as I hit the floor and I hunched over, fighting back the revulsion of what had happened, trying to force it from my mind. Nausea burst through me and I doubled over, heaving as everything in my stomach came up.

     Dean scrambled around me. “Oh, god, baby, what the hell happened? What did he do to you?” Dean gathered my hair tenderly out of my face as another wave of sickness emptied my belly.

     I couldn’t tell him. There was no fucking way I could tell him.

     “Sam! We need some towels! And some water!” Dean bellowed, never moving from his crouch beside me.

     His brother appeared with the requested items and I curled over further, my eyes pressed tight against his concern. “What happened, Dean?”

     “I don’t know, Sammy, but it was bad.” Dean answered roughly, gently running a damp washcloth over my face. “This can’t keep happening, Sam.” Dean looked directly at his brother. “We almost couldn’t bring her back.”

     “I know, Dean, I know.”

      “We have to end this,” I rasped. “I’m not strong enough on my own--I need Crowley.” I grabbed Dean’s sleeve desperately. “Get me Crowley!”

     The brothers shared a long look.

     “I’ll summon him,” Sam said quietly, his concerning growing with every passing second.

     “Now, Sam! I need him _now!_ ” I shrieked, knowing I was out of control, realizing that I was screaming at Sam and he was just trying to help. But all I could see was Dean doubled over in pain, the high keening cry of him reaching his limits, of not being able to handle any more pain. Because of _me._ I had feared Crowley would try and exploit the link between Dean and I but there was nothing in the fucking world he could do to me now. I had seen the worst, had lived through the worst. I was _not_ going to watch Dean die for me. I was going to end this, and Crowley was going to help me fucking do it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments, comments, comments! Was this too much? Did I push too far? Feedback, dear readers! As you all know, I am willing to do chapter rewrites if there is a great outcry. 
> 
> Thank you for all sticking with me so far and for guiding my muse! You're all amazing!
> 
> *I do not own Supernatural but sure do love borrowing the beloved characters and playing in their world for a short while.*


	38. Not An Option

     Sam had just finished the incantation when Crowley appeared in the living room, his mild surprise at the summoning quickly shifting to boredom. “Miss me so soon?” He tucked his hands in the pockets of his black overcoat.

     I got to my feet, emotions running hot beneath my skin. “How do I bring Krieger down?”

     Crowley’s eyebrows flew up. “Excuse me?”

     “How do I bring him down! I’m not strong enough alone, so just tell me what to do! Tell me what I need!”

     He laughed in disbelief, watching me warily. “You seem a bit agitated, sweeting. Did I miss something while I was away?”

     “Don’t play fucking games with me, Crowley,” I snarled, quickly losing what composure I had managed to scrape together. “I don’t have time for your bullshit! Tell me!”

     The demon’s gaze circled the room gauging everyone’s expressions as he tuned into the fact that the room was completely silent.  His expression turned calculating. “What’s in it for me?”

     I knocked him back into Bobby’s desk with a shockwave of power into his chest, feeling it tear through muscle and tissue. Everyone else in the room was on their feet in an instant, the tension in the room skyrocketing.

     He choked, staring at me in shock.

     “You think because you’re the King of Hell you can play games with my life?” I grabbed him by the throat and he struggled, the cunning leaving his eyes quickly as he started to feel the power still tearing through his chest. I let it sink into his cells and molecules, skittering beneath his skin like wildfire. I tightened my grip on his neck and Crowley yelped as his skin started to sizzle and burn. Distinct curves and lines appeared in blistering clarity on his neck as I gripped him even tighter, allowing the burn to sear deeply. I shoved him to the floor and Crowley slapped frantically at the blistering sigil in disbelief, his eyes blown wide open in astonishment as he stared up at me. “That devil’s trap will leave a nasty ass scar which means you’re stuck in that meat suit. I can do anything I want to it and you can’t do a damn thing about it.”

     “You’re supposed to be a healer! Chinuitor shouldn’t be able to—!”

     The sight of him stunned and at my mercy sent a bolt of icy determination through me. “That’s what happens when you try and force someone to turn into a being of light. You have to use some darkness to force it. So guess what, you slimy bastard? There’s demon blood running through my veins. I can cause whatever pain and destruction I fucking want.”

     Crowley stared at me in equal parts wariness and intrigue. The longer he stared the more greed filtered into his expression. “Then why start with a devil’s trap? You’re aiming far below your capabilities, sweeting. Come with me back to Hell and I’ll show you just how strong you are—”

     “Just tell me about Krieger!” I demanded, my fists curling and barely keeping my grasp on my determination. My heart was pumping in my chest and adrenaline was the only thing keeping me upright through the desperation tearing through me. “He’s not just a demon, Crowley—what is he? Why is he so fucking strong?!”

     “He’s a Knight of Hell,” he barked, slowly getting to his knees. “He broke out of the pit I had thrown him in ages ago and has been running amok ever since! He’s a loose cannon and frankly, not my problem at the moment. He stays away from Hell and I stay out of his affairs on earth. The only reason I came by earlier was to confirm that the rumors were true.”

     “Tell me how to end him,” I demanded.

     “You think I want to get in the middle of your fight?” Crowley snapped. “Unless you’re willing to join my side, I don’t give a fuck—”

     “How can she join you if he’s claimed her?” Dean stepped just behind my shoulder, a blade in his hand.

     Crowley’s gaze flickered. “I misspoke. She can’t.”

     “You said you knew how to remove it,” Dean pressed, looming above him angrily. “If you remove it, she’d be able to join you, wouldn’t she? You didn’t misspeak, Crowley, you know how to get rid of it. Tell me.”

     “Look, I just wanted to see what sort of offer you two cretins would come up with. She seems to have become quite the pet and I wanted to see if I could use that to my advantage. I know nothing.” Crowley’s gaze cut away.

     I pressed out with my emotions, meeting a wall of anger, resentment, and discontent. I pressed deeper, peeling back the layers of his emotions until I tasted the sourness of his deceit. “You’re lying.” I grabbed a hold of his overcoat and hauled him back to his feet, my thoughts swirling. “You _do_ know how to remove it!”

     Crowley held up his hands in surrender but a wave of cunning and manipulation pressed against me. “I’m telling you, I don’t know anything!”

     “Damn it, Crowley, stop lying to me!” I shoved him roughly and his gaze only narrowed in irritation. _Goddamn you, Crowley, for making me do this._ I hissed in frustration, yanking his shirt open and slamming my fist into his chest, watching as his skin peeled open and my hand sank beneath his skin and his muscles, the tendons squelching and shifting to make room for me. I wrapped my fingers firmly around his heart, feeling its sudden frantic thumping against my palm. I squeezed it, halting its natural rhythm and causing all of the color to drain from Crowley’s face as his entire body spasmed. “Your life is in _my_ hands now,” I hissed, determination lighting me up from the inside. The power surged and Crowley quaked, instinctively pulling away from me but unable to go anywhere. “Tell me how to remove the Asuat.”

     Crowley choked as all of the pain hit him at once. He turned a little green as his knees buckled and I braced up with one hand inside him and the other clutching his lapel.

     “I’m waiting, Crowley.”

     Crowley opened his mouth, trying to form words as fear finally started to appear in his eyes. A sick flush rose beneath his pasty white skin. “…C-can’t remove it,” he stumbled and I shoved him harder against the desk warningly, “but the link can be transferred!” He gasped, his hands coming up to grab frantically at my wrist. “Get your hand out of my chest!”  
     “Transferred how?”

     “Get your hand out of my chest and I’ll tell you! Bloody hell!”

     “Transferring it is not an option,” Bobby interrupted firmly.

     “What the hell?” Dean swung toward the older hunter in disbelief. “You knew it could be transferred? Why the hell didn't you say something?!”

     “There’s only one way to do it and it’s too dangerous.” Bobby gave me a sharp look.

     A hot blast of anger filled me. “Too _dangerous?_  Are you fucking kidding me, Bobby? That should've been  _my_ call! Not yours! How long have you known about this?!”

     His expression turned to stone. “This isn’t a solution, Alex, we could lose you for good—”

     “For good?” My laughter was sharp and bitter. “This isn’t about me living a long and happy life, Bobby! I have to protect all of you from this! This is my fault, my darkness. I won’t let it destroy any of you, no matter what the cost is!”

     “Some costs are just too high!” Bobby jerked off his hat and slapped it against his leg, crumpling the bill beneath his grip.

     “What is it? What do I forfeit? My soul?” My laughter was hollow. “You think that I still have enough soul left to worry about? I’m tied to Krieger for eternity right now, Bobby. My soul has been damned for _months_. Just because I didn’t know it doesn’t mean that my clock hasn’t been ticking down.” Fury rose up inside me, and I turned the full force of my wrath on the grizzled hunter. “You knew the one way that I could end this and you thought the cost was too high?! Damn you, Bobby! This is the last chance I have to do something good! Because make no mistake, Krieger will find a way to force me to heal his monsters. And if I am not strong enough he’ll force me to become one, using my power to hurt people.” I choked, the desolateness of my future cutting off my air. “So how fucking dare you take that choice from me.”

     “We can end this without you going kamikaze.” Bobby snapped. “We just need more time—”

     “Transfer will… weaken him.” Crowley panted, his grip tightening on my wrist and bringing my fury back to him. “His soul is entwined with yours – without the link his soul will be wounded.”

     “So will hers,” Bobby snarled. “I said _no_!”

     Crowley glared at him. “Hers will be connected to the new owner’s. She’ll be fine.”

     “New owner--?” Sam’s jaw clenched. “Can’t we just break the link and she’ll be free?”

     “No,” Crowley bit out. “Her soul has been broken apart. Even if you transfer ownership, there are certain pieces that Krieger will retain, even if you manage to kill him. Her only hope is to be linked to another owner. The new link will sustain her.” He paused, his heart pumping sluggishly in my grasp. “But be warned, it will only work once. There won’t be enough of her soul left to complete a second transfer so don’t muck it up.”

     “Fine.” I snapped. “Tell me what I need to do.”

     “ _No_!” Bobby bellowed, shaking the floor beneath my feet. “You don't understand what's at risk here!”

     “The cost is irrelevant, Bobby!” I cried, staring at him over my shoulder. “I have to do this!”

     Bobby threw his hat across the room and it slammed into a glass fronted cabinet, shattering the pane loudly. “You have to die! You can only break the link when your soul is outside of your body, goddamn it!”

     The faint hope in my chest vanished, leaving a sick numbness behind.  

     “Hell no!” Dean rejected explosively, coming around to get up in my face. “Absolutely not! _”_

     “You both know as well as I do that death is not final!” Crowley snapped. “Once the new link is in place, you bring her back. It’s a very delicate process but it can be done.” 

     Dean glared at me fiercely. “No. You’re not doing that. I won’t allow—”

     My expression settled into stone. “You won’t _allow_ it? Really? The only solution we have to this problem and you won’t _allow_ it?”

     “That’s not a solution, Lex, it’s _death_. One screw-up and that’s it—you’re gone. No fucking way am I letting you die!”

     “We don’t have any other options.” I gritted my teeth, realizing I had to give him something, had to explain why the stakes were suddenly so much higher. “He’s coming for you, Dean. He swore he would make me beg for your life.” Emotion crowded my throat and I fought it back viciously. I didn’t have time to process, didn’t have time to stop moving. Taking Krieger down was my only focus now. I flattened my tone, making sure the next words came out coldly. “I watched you die. He destroyed you right in front of me and I couldn’t do anything to stop it. I can’t stop him, Dean. I’m not strong enough. If this is my one chance to save you, then I’ll do it.” I turned back to Crowley, my expression set. “I’ll do it.”

     “ _Fuck no!_ ” Dean exploded, his grip constricting on his knife. “No fucking way! Lex, you can’t do this! I won’t let you do this!”

     “How long will it take?” I gritted out, trying to keep my defenses up.

     “About a half hour.”

     “Don’t,” Dean pleaded, the anguish in his voice gutting me. “Please don’t do this. Not for me.”

     I swallowed hard, desperation settling in my gut. “Then let’s get this over with.”

     “ _Goddamn you, Lex!_ ” Dean splintered apart right in front of my eyes and my heart started pounding painfully in my chest. The heavy beat of it started breaking apart my detachment, leaving me defenseless against the volcano of fear I was trying so hard to keep repressed. I broke open inside, pain and love so fierce that I struggled to find a way above it all so I could catch my breath. Instead Dean’s emotions suddenly exploded inside my head, pouring into my brokenness and destroying the foundation I had left. His thoughts fired into my head like shrapnel and I stumbled beneath their impact. _Fight, damn it! Find another way to fight! I can’t do this – I can’t stand aside and watch you die. And for what? For me? To save me?! Damn it, Lex, I am not worth your life! We were supposed to go into this fight together, damn you! I can’t watch you die, Lex, don’t ask me to. Goddamn it, don’t do this!_ He was angry, he was so gut-wrenchingly furious with me for not backing down. _What if I never get you back? What if something goes wrong and you’re stuck in Hell? I can’t—I can’t do any of this without you beside me. Find another goddamn way!_

     I stayed silent, his screams battering against my white knuckled grip on my sanity. The link between us suddenly fractured as he tore his presence from my mind. Choking, I released Crowley in shock, my hand jerking out of his chest with a wrenching squelch and he dropped to his knees with a pained groan. Frantic, my gaze shot to Dean’s and the desolation in his green gaze undid me. Mentally I reached out to him, tried to feel him, to fill the gaping hole in my chest. Instead I met silence. Emptiness. The pain of his absence sucked the air from my lungs. Krieger’s words forced their way into my mind.

_You brought that pain on him. You did it. He’ll curse you. He’ll curse ever having met you._

     I dug my fingers into the scarred wooden desktop, forcing myself to find an anchor as I held back the thousand things I couldn’t say to him. I had to do this. If my death meant that he would live, then I could do this. I had to become stone. I forced myself to straighten, struggling to put myself back together one breath at a time. It took every bit of my strength to drag my gaze back to Crowley, to force the cold words out of my mouth. “We’re going to make a deal, Crowley. But _I_ hold the contract. You’re going to tell Bobby everything he needs to know to complete the transfer successfully. If you fuck this up, I will kill you. You’re locked in that body and I will melt you from the inside out.”

     Crowley glared at me viciously. “What do I get if I succeed?”

     “You walk out of here and I hope to God I never see you again.”

     He watched me for a long moment as if gauging whether he could try and finagle different terms but something about my expression communicated that I had hit my limit. He simply nodded.

     I turned finally and faced the rest of the room. Dean was gone, had slipped out while I fought to put myself back together. Bobby's eyes were blazing, mutiny in every line of his body. Cas was staring at me, watching closely to every shift in my expression, his bright blue gaze weighing on me heavily. But the intensity from both of them paled in comparison to Sam. He seemed to fill the entire room, roiling fury pouring off him as he stretched to his full height. Sam strode forward and I suddenly wondered if he would attack me, so great was the ferocity in his gaze. His words from before echoed through my thoughts, clawing another bloody layer off my soul. _He’ll never recover if something happens to you. He’s lost everything, Alex. Our family, our home, his childhood, our friends—He never reaches out for anything anymore. You’re the first thing he’s held tight to in such a long time and if you do something stupid like sacrifice yourself—you’ll destroy him._ Son of a fucking bitch, I could not handle his feeling of betrayal right now. We were out of goddamn time and I was out of goddamn choices. 

     Sam came within arms’ reach and I distantly became aware that I could hear Dean shouting in a different part of the house followed by the crashing and banging of furniture being thrown and broken. Sam unclenched his jaw only enough to let a few hissing words escape. “Damn you for making me choose between you.”

     I flinched as the anger pouring off him found its mark beneath my shattered defenses. He loomed far over me for a long moment and I could feel the struggle within him, my ability to block out his emotions completely gone. He was seething, so full of boiling anger and pain that I ached. His love for his brother was a mountain he felt determined to shoulder, a selflessness that I would never have been able to fathom until I met Dean Winchester. Now I understood it all too well. I swallowed roughly, feeling as if my throat was full of jagged glass, my words barely coming out in a whisper. “I’m sorry, Sam.”

     “If you knew it was coming to this, why the fuck didn’t you leave?” He shoved his hands into his hair as if fighting the urge to lash out, to release some of the pain he was feeling inside. “You _knew_ he was falling in love with you--why would you do this to him?!” 

     My chest ached as his words found their mark. “I… I love him.”

     “If you really loved him, you would never have asked this of him. Now instead of watching Krieger kill you, you’re handing him the knife and asking him to do it himself. He’ll never make it through this, Alex.” With that, he turned on his heel and walked out of the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for such a long delay! I lost track of how many times I had to rewrite this chapter (I got to the twelfth rewrite and quit counting, when I deleted the 23rd page of text I realized I didn't want to know anymore lol). I still wrestled with certain parts of it so please let me know if there are chunks that don't jive well. Your feedback as always inspires and helps me get ever better at writing so that I can continue going on Supernatural adventures with you all at my side!
> 
> Love you all and thanks so much for reading!
> 
> *I do not own Supernatural but sure do love borrowing the beloved characters and playing in their world for a short while.*


	39. I'm Okay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning - Made me cry when I wrote it, made me cry when I proofed it, made me cry when I posted and proofed it again. Enjoy.
> 
> *I do not own Supernatural but sure do love borrowing the beloved characters and playing in their world for a short while.*

     I felt completely hollowed out when I finally sank down in the hallway. Bobby had snapped that I should take a breather while he and Crowley gathered the ingredients necessary for the spell. Fat lot of good that would do me, he had muttered loudly on my way out. Three steps into the darkened hallway my knees simply gave out. I could hear Dean shouting upstairs and Sam’s tenor tones trying to soothe but the sudden shatter of glass made me flinch. Bobby growled at Crowley who snapped back loudly, voice rising with each syllable. I pressed my hands against my ears and curled over my knees, rocking as I tried to block them all out, to drown out the sound of their anger and the constant hiss of  _his_ voice looping in my head.

 _You brought that pain on him. You did it. He’ll curse you. He’ll curse ever having met you._ _You brought that pain on him. You brought that pain on him. You brought that pain on him. You brought that pain on--_

     I couldn’t make it stop, couldn’t block the darkness that was filling this house because of me. I slowly became aware of pain, of a terrible pulsing pain inside me, low in my belly. I opened my eyes as a single tear fell down my cheek. There were bloodstains. On my dress. On my beautiful green dress from Dean. It was ruined.  It had been taken from me not just in the dreamscape but now in reality. There were streaks of blood on the skirt but the longer I stared the more I realized I could feel blood on my thighs, coming from the terrible ache between my legs. Damn Krieger to hell. Slowly, every movement brittle, I got to my feet and made my way up the stairwell. Sam and Dean’s argument got louder and I pressed my eyes closed, desperately hoping that they stayed locked away from me, that I could handle this last task in isolation. I could spare Dean knowing this small piece, could protect him from my brokenness. I used my hand along the wall to prop me up as I made my way to his room. They were in Sam’s room across the hall and that door flew open right as I reached for the handle.

     “—think I don’t know that?!” Dean had backed his way out the door and all I could see were his broad shoulders.

     “You’ll regret it, Dean—you’ll regret leaving her like this for the rest of your life—”

     “She made her choice! I can’t – I can’t just stand there and watch her—” Dean spun into me full force and I stumbled away from him, trying to catch myself on the doorknob but it flew open behind me, throwing me down to the carpet. I choked on a whimper, my reserves of strength shot, my ability to pull myself together completely depleted. Dean caught himself on the doorframe, looking down at me with dark shadows in his green eyes. Sam appeared behind his shoulder, his expression set in anger when he saw me.

     “Sorry, I’m sorry—” I muttered, trying to get up, trying to get my feet beneath me but everything just fucking hurt and my movements were sluggish at best.

     Sam’s expression tightened. “She’s bleeding, Dean.”

     Dean’s gaze shifted to concern in a blink. “Alex?”

     “Fine—I’m fine, please, just go.” I pleaded, pushing away his hands, desperate to stop the train wreck that was about to happen. He didn’t need this right now, surely he was angry enough that he would just leave me there--

     Dean’s gaze scanned me head to toe, lingering on the bloodstains on the dress with mounting alarm. “Is this part of it? Did Bobby already do the spell?”

     “No,” I tried pushing him away again but he grabbed me beneath the arms and lifted me to the edge of the bed, the pressure only adding to the pain. “Goddamn it, Dean, just leave me alone! Please!”

     Sam dropped back a step, straightening to his full height as his expression turned cold. “Alex, did Krieger do this? In the dreamscape? Did he ...rapeyou?”

     Dean’s gaze snapped to mine.

     I tore my eyes from his, desperately seeking Sam’s. “Please, Sam. I’m begging you. Take Dean and _leave_. There’s nothing left to say. I know you’re both angry with me, I can get cleaned up on my own--”

     “Answer the question, Alex.” Dean ground out roughly.

     “Please, Sam. I’ll never ask you for anything again. Please--just take him and _leave_.” I couldn’t stop the tears from spilling down my cheeks any more than I could stop Dean’s hands from suddenly slipping beneath my skirt and running carefully over my leggings, checking for injuries. “Please, I’m fine. I’m really fine. We just have to get through this spell and you won’t have to worry about me anymore. I can take care of Krieger by myself, its fine. Please, Dean, don’t—” I choked on a sob as Dean reached the damp blood soaked fabric high on the inside of both thighs.

     He dropped back on his knees in front of me, all the color fading from his face. A muscle ticked in his clenched jaw, the creases on either side of his mouth deepening as he stared at me for a long moment until a single tear dropped out of his reddening eyes and slipped down his cheek. “Lexi, why--?” He swallowed roughly. “Why didn’t you _tell_ me?” He rasped, bringing one hand up and running the back of his knuckles down my jawline.

     “I couldn’t—it doesn’t matter. Don’t worry about it--I’ve been through it before. At least this time I have clothes and—and a shower. And really, what does it matter? We just have to get through this—I just have to break the link so he won’t come after you—really, I’m ok. Just let me clean myself up. I can hardly even feel it--”

     “Goddamn it, baby girl,” he breathed, face crumpling as he wrapped his arms around my waist, dragging me closer to him and burying his face in my middle. “It matters. _You_ matter more than anything—and he did this to you, he _hurt_ you—and I left you down there to face everything alone--”

     “I just have to protect you,” I sobbed helplessly, my fingers scrambling to find purchase on his flannel shirt so I could pull him closer. “It doesn’t matter what happens to me, I just have to protect you. I would go through that a thousand times over if it meant I could keep you safe.” I pressed my face into his hair, unable to stop my soundless weeping. “I can’t let him take you from me. I – I know you’re angry with me. I wish there was any other way to do this, but please don’t leave me alone, Dean, please. I need you. I have no right to ask you for anything but _please_ —I don’t want to die alone. I don’t want you to be angry with me. Please, I need you.”

     “I’m here. I’m right here, baby girl.” He pulled back enough to raise devastated tear soaked green eyes to mine and I choked on a gasping sob. I had nothing left. Nothing to offer him, no future, no false hope. Just the shell of what I had left, laying broken in his arms. He brushed my tears away but couldn’t stop their steady fall. He brushed a heartbreaking kiss on my mouth, gone before I could press it into my memory, and then he was gathering me to my feet, his arm wrapped around me for support as he dragged one hand down his face to remove the traces of tears. He swallowed roughly and turned to Sam. “Tell Bobby we need a few minutes. I’ll bring her down when we’re ready.”

     “Dean—” Compassion and heartache burned bright in Sam’s eyes but his loyalty was obviously torn.

     Dean cleared his throat, his grip on my waist tightening. “I left her alone once, Sammy. I won’t do it again. We’ll see this thing through together.”

     Sam nodded wordlessly and disappeared out the door. Dean shut it quietly behind him and silently began loosening the laces on my dress.

     My hands fluttered over his, unsure what to do. “You don’t have to—”

     He grabbed one of my hands and pressed a kiss to the edge of my knuckles with a pained smile. “Please, let me. I just need to pretend for a minute that I can make everything ok, all right? Please. Let me help you get cleaned up.”

     I let out a gasping sob before I could suck it back in, holding my breath and trying to keep my tears at bay. He had said that to me once before. It had been in a cornfield after I had torn through my stitches only days after they had rescued me. His fierce protection had brought me through so much already, his gentleness soothing my fractured soul. We just had to get through this last hurdle together.

     He finished with the laces and gently grasped the hem of the dress before lifting it carefully over my head. He stepped closer, pressing a soft kiss to my collarbone as he slid his hands beneath the waistband of the leggings and slowly easing the bloody fabric down my legs. I braced my hands on his shoulders and stepped out of my boots as he eased the leggings over my feet and gently stroked the sides of my ankles. Any chance I had of keeping my heart disappeared with those soft touches. After so much pain and so much heartache, he still had it in him to touch me with tenderness. He didn’t see the brokenness or the bloodstains, he just saw his Lex.

     There was no need for words between us as he left for a moment and returned with a bowl of water and a soft towel. He knelt on the floor before me and placed my foot on his thigh, one broad hand braced at my ankle. The other dipped the towel in the water and began gentle strokes washing the blood from my body. It was painful at points, more so because Dean simply absorbed my every hiss and flinch as if it was his due, as if his anger downstairs had been unforgiveable and shouldering my pain was the only way he could offer penance. He finished in silence and moved the bloodstained towel and rust colored water to the dresser, gathering me some dark colored sweatpants and a t-shirt. He helped me into them and as soon as I stood dressed in front of him, he wrapped his arms around me tightly, pulling me into the shelter of his body. His grip was desperate, so full of the words he didn’t say, his hold almost painful as he pulled me ever closer with one arm across my shoulders and the other around my waist. I dropped my forehead to his chest and linked my fingers at the small of his back, pressing him into every curve of my body. We fit so perfectly, like two halves of one whole. I wished for a desperate moment that things could be different, that we could have taken another path to reach the end of this battle. But I could feel time slipping through my fingers. “Dean,” I whispered softly. “Please don’t be angry with me.”

    “I love you,” he rasped desperately, his guttural tones bringing tears to my eyes again. “No matter what happens, know that I love you. I won’t leave you again. I — I’ll be there, beside you, until the end.” He wrenched me away from him, carding his hands into my hair to cradle my face. His thumbs brushed relentlessly at the tears that were sliding down my cheeks as his own seeped from the corners of his eyes slowly. “But you better damn well come back to me, you understand?” He pressed a harsh kiss to my forehead before drawing me back to look into my eyes again, his mouth pressing tightly against his emotions. “Dessert’s still in the fridge, remember? I made it just for you. It’s nothing but cool whip and chocolate sauce.” A broken laugh escaped him and speared into my chest. “Your favorite, if I remember right. I was going to impress you with something fancy but I figured why fuck with the classics, right?” He forced a smile and sucked in a deep breath, one last tear sliding down his cheek before he straightened, visibly tucking away the desperation and fear in his gaze. He sniffed once and brushed a hand down his face, bringing his composure firmly back in place. He ran his thumb along the bottom edge of my jaw, achingly tender despite his determined composure. “So let’s get this done with and kill that son of a bitch so we can come home and eat dessert. I just want to eat dessert with you, baby girl. Think we can manage that?” There was a catch in his throat when he finished the question and I battled back the flood of emotion overwhelming me.

     “Every day for the rest of forever.” I whispered fiercely, forcing a smile of my own.

    Dean nodded, words seeming beyond him now as he tucked me beneath his arm. We walked downstairs together.


	40. An End Is Always A Beginning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up:  
> Shift in POV halfway through the chapter.

     “—it will bloody well work!” Crowley’s strident bark met us in the hallway, bringing a swift end to the soft threading emotions inside me. I took a deep breath, trying to gather myself. Dean laced his fingers through mine and gave them a squeeze, offering a small smile that echoed the desperation in my heart.

     “If it doesn’t, I’ll make a hand in your chest feel like a tickle,” Bobby growled. We reached the doorway and silence filled the room. Bobby’s gaze tripped down my change of clothes and lingered on our entwined hands. His mouth tightened and he turned a full force glare on me.

     I swallowed hard and straightened, digging deep for the determination I needed. “I’m ready. What do we need to do?”

     “I need you to come to your senses and realize this whole thing is bullshit, Alex.” Bobby snarled. “That’s what I need.”

     Crowley sighed and lifted a shoulder. “Such a drama queen. All we need now is a small box. And a pint of your blood.”

     Sam ducked into the kitchen and dug around in the cabinets until he found a small, plain wooden box. He handed it to me without a word, his gaze staying steady on Dean, gauging his brother’s frame of mind.

     Dean’s grip was tightening but he stayed silent, watching Crowley guardedly as he lined up a strange assortment of items. Most of them were a mystery but I spotted small bone fragments, baby quail eggs and a small drawing of the sigil on my side amongst the collection. Crowley scooted a knife and bowl toward me expectantly and I separated myself from Dean. I drew the blade deeply across my forearm and held my wrist toward the bowl, watching as crimson steadily began to flow. My gaze flickered back to the demon's. “What next?”

     “Once we have your blood, we can perform the ritual. It’s quite simple, really.”

     “There’s still time to get out of this, Alex,” Bobby muttered, pacing the room heavily.

     “Please, I don’t want to argue--”  
     “Well I do!” He snapped, jerking to a halt with his brown eyes flashing. I realized he was riding a very fine line of control and my chest tightened painfully. “You’re spouting all kinds of bullshit about how you’re doing this to save Dean, how your sacrifice is going to save all of us. Well guess what, princess? I don’t want to be saved like this! I think if we take some extra time to find another way, we can avoid all of it! And even if we can’t and that son of a bitch comes storming in here, that just means I can tear him apart with my bare hands!”

     I clenched my jaw, realizing anything I said at this point wouldn’t make a difference.

     “What? You think an old man like me can’t take that bastard? I’ve been through more than you can ever imagine in my sixty odd years on this earth—and I’ve got to tell you, losing the only daughter I’ve ever had is not something I care to add to the list!”

     His words slugged me in the chest. “Bobby—?”

     His brown eyes narrowed, his expression set in anger. “I have enough stubborn jackasses in this family – you were supposed to be the one I didn’t have to worry about. The one with enough common sense to stay out of trouble. You’re a healer, damn it! You’re supposed to fix things, not break them apart even more!”

     “I’m sorry, Bobby—”

     “Don’t do this.” His hands fisted at his sides, every line of his posture resistant. "I'm asking you, Alex, please don't do this."

     “I…have to.”

     His expression closed and air stuttered in my lungs. He blinked slowly and I realized his brown eyes were swimming in tears. Not a single one escaped as if his sheer force of will was keeping the pain inside. “Then promise me something.”

     “Anything.” I pulled in a heaving breath, fighting to mimic his strength.

     “You fight. You fight with everything you’ve got. Because coming back after you’re gone is going to be the hardest thing you’ve ever done. We have one shot at this and you better not fuck it up.” I nodded sharply and he suddenly gripped my shoulder, struggling to speak. “You complete this family. So you better damn well come back to us.”

     I slipped my hand around his wrist, squeezing it tightly.

     “As touching as this all is,” Crowley tilted his head in boredom, “we have several things we still need to discuss.”

     Bobby pulled me into a hug that was over before it registered, and he stepped back without another word.

     I noticed that the bowl had filled with my blood and I brushed my free hand over the wound to close it up. Dean handed me a towel. “What?”

     “First and foremost--who is going to become your new owner?”

     Oh god. I hadn’t even thought about that. My gaze shot to Dean’s.  His eyes were wide and a devastating hope started to bloom in his gaze. Something shifted inside me, as if a piece that had been missing suddenly fell into place. But no, the risks were immense. If something went wrong with the spell, or if Crowley made one mistake—

     “Lex—”

     “No, no way. I’m not saving your ass just so you can be a hero—”

     He grabbed a firm hold of my face, fingers buried in my hair. He pressed a devastating kiss on my mouth, soft and easy and gentle. “Shut up. We're doing this.”

     “But what if something happens--what if this goes sideways?!”

     He pulled me into his chest and wrapped me in a tight embrace. “Listen, baby girl. If you think for one minute that I want anyone connected to you for eternity but me—” His expression hardened. “You are sadly mistaken. You’re mine, Lexi girl. We have a chance to not only weaken Krieger but to protect you. Because you _are_ coming back and we are going to take his ass down together. And after that? I don’t want anyone else thinking they can own you or some other bullshit. We do this and everyone will know you’re mine. Forever.”

     “Damn it, Dean, I’m doing all this to save you! You’re can’t just turn around and--”

     “You save me and I save you. That’s the way this thing works between us. You already have my heart, baby girl. Now it’s time we shared a soul.” He ignored my struggles in his arms and faced Bobby and Crowley head on. “Let’s do this.”

     “Dean, no!”

     Bobby muttered beneath his breath and clapped a hand around Dean’s neck in a loose embrace. I had a sudden mental image of him grabbing Dean that way as a small child, trying to corral a mouthy and angry kid and rattle some sense into him. Bobby started to say something, staring at Dean fiercely as the moment stretched out. He finally just nodded sharply and released him. “All right then. You help her be strong enough to come back, Dean, and you'll both be all right.”

     Dean straightened and jerked his chin.

     “I’m ready to get to the part where we kick some serious demon ass.” Sam came toward us with a tight grip on his knife. “You’re not allowed to die, Alex. So kick this thing in the teeth and make sure it doesn’t take my brother from me, you understand?” He gave me a hard look and his words were crystal clear between us – _or his death will be on you._ There was a strong bond between Sam and me but it paled in comparison to the love he had for his brother. Even with that said, I could still see the conflict within him. We had been through a lot together and I couldn’t imagine any of this was easy for him.

     I glared back at him fiercely. “I will do whatever I have to do, to keep him alive. You have my promise.”

     Crowley slapped his hands together. “Now that all those pesky goodbyes are out of the way, let’s get this show on the road.”

     “Stay back, Crowley,” Bobby snapped. “I don’t trust you for a minute. Everything you told me was what I found out in my own research, otherwise I wouldn’t be putting so much faith in this plan. I’ll handle the spell and incantations, thank you very much.”

     Crowley rocked back on his heels with a smug smile. “Oh you will, eh? So then which of you is going to drive the dagger into her heart?” He smirked at us all when no one responded. “That’s what I thought. No hard feelings, sweets, but I hope you don’t mind if I get some enjoyment out of this.” Crowley picked up the knife off the desk and slammed it into my chest. It sank in with a crunch, straight down to the hilt and the startling pain punched the air out of my lungs.

     “Goddamn it, Crowley!” Dean wrapped his arms around me and I blinked at them all in surprise. I had known it was coming but _damn_. A little warning sure wouldn’t have hurt. Dean was shouting at Crowley, and Bobby and Sam were rushing to light the incense and start reading the incantation in Latin. I could feel my heart pounding viciously in my chest, nearly shaking my entire frame. The power inside me started glowing hot around the wound and I wondered absently if it would _allow_ me to be killed. I hadn’t even thought of the power fighting on its own to keep me alive. Crowley stared at me in captivation as harsh blue light began to glow out of the edges of the gash. It was hot, so hot inside me and I remembered so many moments of fighting this heat, of Sam and Dean trying to keep me alive in the beginning with nothing but that elixir and sheer determination. The power was almost a living breathing thing inside me, fighting to close the wound and I grabbed a hold of Crowley’s wrist. He still had a grip on the knife in my chest as he watched me in a sick fascination as my grasp tightened on his arm.

     “More,” I gasped breathlessly, digging my nails into his skin. “Not enough damage—have to--tear me apart.”

     “Goddamn it, Alex!” Dean cried, his arms tightening around me. “Are you fucking kidding me?!”

     Crowley got a firmer grip on the handle and yanked with all of his strength, dragging the blade through my chest and down through my belly. He couldn’t hide a twisted sense of pleasure from his gaze as the blade ground against my bones and blood started flowing.

     I was vaguely aware of Bobby reciting an incantation loudly as everything started to darken. My knees buckled and Crowley stepped back with a satisfied grunt. The power inside me flared blindingly through the gaping wound as blood started pumping from my body and spreading across the floor. Dean was right there with me, his arms still wrapped tight around me and his voice rasping in my ear.

     “If I have to watch you die like this, then you better fucking well come back so I can take it out of your ass for putting me through this. You understand me? This was the worst fucking idea you’ve ever had! But you’re coming back, you hear me?” He sank to the bloody floor with me in his arms, rocking with my body held tight to his chest. “Goddamn it! I’m here, baby girl. I’m right here. You’re ok, everything is going to be ok. I’m right here, baby girl, we’re going to get through this. Just come back to me, Lex. Just come back--”

     His voice was the last thing I heard as the darkness crept in.

 

******

(Dean’s POV)  
           

     There was so much fucking blood. I knew there were words coming out of my mouth but I had no idea what I was saying anymore. I couldn’t look away from her vivid green eyes as she stared up at me, her strength and determination fading with each pulse of blood leaving her body. God, she was so tiny in my arms. How could such a small person sustain so much damage and live? But no, we wanted her to die. She had to die, that was the plan. Wasn’t it? All I could think about was that I had failed. She was mine, she was my Lex, and I had failed to protect her from this. I should’ve figured out that Krieger was fixated on her, that he was the problem all along. I had wasted so much time with her arguing, fighting about stupid shit I couldn’t even remember when I should’ve spent it with her in my arms, protecting her. How the fuck after she had been through so much could still look at me like I was enough for her? I prayed if we made it through this that she would never realize how much she had to offer, that anyone she turned her beautiful green eyes on would surely fall at her feet and weep for the chance to touch her. But she was mine, she had said she loved _me._ We were going to share a soul, goddamn it – surely after all this I would be able to convince her to stay. I couldn’t imagine taking another breath without her by my side.  
     My heart stopped in my chest when she blinked up at me slowly, and god, oh god, I could see it. The blue light that had been almost blindingly bright at Crowley’s attack was fading with very moment. I wasn’t ready. I couldn’t do this. She was leaving me and I would never get her back. Her small hand slowly reached up and pressed against my jawline and I choked on the tightness in my chest. Her mouth was moving, those lips that I hadn’t spent nearly enough time exploring were trying to form words. I bent toward her, brushing away the stubborn curls that always landed in her face, that just begged for my touch every time I looked at her. “What, baby girl? What? It’s fine, everything is going to be fine.”

     She strained to breathe and I pressed even closer. The color in her face was fading and the blue light almost completely gone. I pulled her closer toward me as if I could share some of the life pumping through my veins with her. Her touch against my face disappeared as her hand fell limply against my chest. “Love … you.”

     “I love you too, Lex – don’t go, baby, not yet. I’m not ready, not yet—”

     A soft smile curved her beautiful mouth as the last of the vivid green faded from her eyes. “See … you … soon…” Her eyelids fell and the last of the blue light disappeared, fading into the smoky air surrounding us.

     “ _No_!” I roared, pulling her closer, dropping my forehead to hers to try and feel her soft breath against my lips. But there was nothing, the air was cold between us. _See you soon, see you soon, see you soon…_

     “Bring her back, Bobby! _Now_!”

     “I’m working on it! We have to wait on her soul --!”

     A blinding flash of light exploded in the room like a percussive blast, knocking everyone back from us several steps. But I held tight to her, unwilling to let anything take her body from me. Bobby finished a long string of Latin and the words finally sank into my skull.

     “… _Spiritus tuus non plus capit—” your spirit trapped no more “--perfectionem recipe in vera coniunctione tua--” find completion in your rightful union “--religa et pro spiritu tuo confove ut unum.” be bound and care for your spirit as one._

     “Quick, Dean, she needs your blood!” Bobby tossed me a blade and I sliced my forearm deeply. Bobby was there with the bowl of Lex’s blood and it was now a sick black color, swirling with bits of bone and paper and powders. My blood dripped off my arm and sizzled and sparked when it landed on hers in the bowl. A ball of light rose from Lex’s body. It was beautiful, a wild mixture of the bright blue light of her power and the vivid green of her eyes. The purity of it was riveting.

     “—on, Dean! Now!”

     I dragged my gaze back to a kneeling Bobby who grabbed my wrist and spit out words faster than my brain could translate. A searing pain dug into my forearm and I felt like my chest was breaking open. Another percussive blast of light knocked me to the floor, Lex still tucked against me, my arm still wrapped protectively around her waist.

 

 

     The sun was hot on my face, the Impala’s hood warm against my back. One arm was folded beneath my head and the other curled around her shoulders, playing with the ends of her curly hair. She was pressed against my side, her jaw propped on my chest as her fingers traced lazy circles on my belly. I lifted one eyelid to find her gorgeous green eyes watching me playfully.

     “Go back to sleep,” I mumbled, letting my eyes drift closed again. “Don’t wanna move. Sun feels good.”

     I felt her smile against my skin as her soft touch started drifting south. I grabbed her wrist, halting its descent with a gentle stroke to the inside of her arm. “Nuh-uh. No way. You wore me out, minx. I need rest.”

     “But Dean…” she breathed in that raspy way she knew lit me up, “I just want to play.”

     A grin twitched my mouth at the effortless way she got me going. Hell, all she had to do now was look at me with those big green eyes and I folded instantly. I growled, rolling us both on the hood until she was tucked beneath me and I had both of her hands grasped in mine, held against the windshield. She stared up at me with anticipation, but it was the deep undercurrent of love in her eyes that did me in. She licked those lips and I couldn’t hold back a sound of want from my throat.

     “Come on, baby,” she purred, voice like sin. “I know you’ve got another round in you.” She spread her legs wider and I realized she was in the dress I bought for her. No leggings this time, just the pure mouth-watering stretch of her lithe legs. That dress made me want to weep with how it hugged and swept over her beautiful curves. She squirmed beneath me until she had me where she wanted me, pressed up tight against her with her knees notched against my ribs. She gave me a little squeeze with her thighs that sent my mind straight to pounding inside her, her legs wrapped around my waist as I drove the sound of my name from her lips. I blinked hazily and she laughed, that coveted sound that made something inside me light up. I needed to make her laugh, I didn’t do it nearly enough. It was as important to me as watching out for Sammy or keeping the Impala rolling forward. She needed to remember how to laugh just as much as I needed to get used to hearing it.

     “You look a little dazed there, babe—you all right?”

     “I love you,” I said hoarsely, realizing I couldn’t remember the last time I said it. “This—” I rolled my hips against her and relished the way her eyes dilated and her mouth dropped open just a little, her neck arching with a tiny moan, “is great, but sometimes just sitting in the sun beside you is even better.” I released her wrists and dropped a quick kiss on that begging mouth, kicking myself in the ass for passing her up even knowing I craved peacefulness with her more. I rolled to my side and propped my head up in one hand, smiling down at her sulking. I brushed a finger over her mouth, erasing all signs of unhappiness as she softened beneath the touch, all of the shadows disappearing from her gaze. “So settle in, baby girl. We've got all day long with nowhere to be and I just want to enjoy laying here with you.”

     She sighed grudgingly but smiled as we cuddled in closer, letting the heat of the day soak into our bones and lull us peacefully to sleep.

 

     “ _Dean!_ ”

     Something pounded into my chest like an anvil and I convulsed, folding up into the pain.

     “Dean! Thank God. Sammy! He’s all right! He’s back with us. Dean, get your ass together and quit pulling that shit. Alex needs you.”

     I pried my gritty eyes open, fighting past the confusion and darkness to find Lex lying beside me like in my dream, but we were both covered in blood and she was icy cold and still. Her dark hair was matted around her face and I reached out and touched it fearfully. It was real, it was all real. My desperate gaze jumped to Bobby’s.

     “We’ve done everything we could, Dean. Now it’s up to her.”

     My gaze shot back to Lex and there was no movement, no change. I stared harder, determined to see her chest rise and fall with a single breath. But the more I concentrated the more I started to feel a weird sensation skittering beneath my skin. It was almost as if I could feel _her_. My own emotions felt blanketed beneath a gray cloud of things I couldn’t make sense of, but if I pushed harder I could feel her gathering her strength, feel a slow build of energy beginning to swirl in her core. I jerked back, landing on my heels. “Can you feel that?” I demanded, my hands hovering over her, afraid to touch, afraid to cause more damage.

     “What, Dean?” Sam was suddenly there beside me. “Is she moving? Is she all right?”

     I leaned toward Lex, desperate to see if my mind was playing tricks on me. I wasn’t wrong! I could _feel_ her presence. “Alex! I can feel her, I can—” I gathered her up in my arms and pulled her into my lap, pressing her head into my shoulder. “Come on, baby girl, come on. You got this. Come back to me.” A faint breath of air skittered across my neck and my heart leapt to my throat. “Come on, Lexi, come on!”

     A soft sound escaped her and something punctured inside me, straight past conscious thought to pure overwhelming emotion. God, I was drowning in it. I pulled back from her to see her eyelids fluttering and my heart was pounding in my chest. God, all I wanted to see was her green eyes, full of life and staring up at me. I would give up anything, everything, just to have her alive in my arms again. I would never take her for granted, never let my stubbornness make us argue again—goddamn, but I would make her laugh every day for the rest of our lives if she would just come back to me.

     “…Dean?”

     The sound of my name on her lips was the sweetest thing I had ever heard in my life.

     "It’s all right, baby girl. Everything is going to be all right now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So many feels! I might've freaked out just a smidge when I realized I had built all of this angst up into this chapter and had so very many people anxiously waiting for the resolution to this piece of the journey. I sincerely hope to hear from you whether it satisfied or didn't (I would definitely appreciate the opportunity to make adjustments it if it disappointed you). I never had intended to do any part of this story from Dean's POV but, well ... it sort of happened anyway. He's a pushy son of a bitch.
> 
> Special thanks to SuperFangirl17 for your gracious help on the Latin! You are the greatest!
> 
> *I do not own Supernatural but sure do love borrowing the beloved characters and playing in their world for a short while.*
> 
> As always, thank you all so much for reading! I am a glutton for your feedback be it good or bad and am always hoping to improve my writing. You all are quite simply, The Best. <3


	41. Take It Easy

       A broken cheer broke out around the room before fading into stunned relief. I struggled to get my bearings in the silence as Dean ran a hand through my hair repeatedly, tracing the lines of my face. I could feel the pounding of his heart against my cheek. “You’re all right, Lex, we made it. I’m right here. You got this. Just breathe, baby. Let me feel you breathe.”

       I cracked open my eyes to peer at him. “You crying, Winchester?” It was barely a murmur, far from the strength I was hoping for.

       He gasped a pained laugh. “Over what? You, bleeding in my arms? Hell, no. I’m starting to get used to it by now. Think you can manage to stay put together for longer than two minutes this time?”

       My mouth curled up just a little at the reminder. He had asked me that before, a long time ago. “No promises,” I breathed, struggling to press a hand to the gaping wound across my belly. Things were knitting from the inside, I could feel it, but there were no bright lights this time, no shining blue power to sweep in and erase what had just happened. It was there, like a steady hum beneath my skin but it was recuperating. It needed a bit of a breather just as much as I did.

       “We’re both going to end up walking around naked if you keep going through my clothes at this rate,” he teased softly, his bloody fingertip still tracing the side of my face. My eyes drifted closed and I leaned into the touch, letting it soak down deep inside me.

       “You’d like that, wouldn’t you,” I said softly, unable to hold back a chuckle.

       Dean made a noise and my eyes flew open. A single tear raced down the blood on his face, leaving a startling clean track on his skin. “I love your laugh,” he whispered, pressing an unsteady kiss to my forehead. “Let’s never do this again, all right? I can’t handle losing you like this. Never again.” He gestured to the bloody mess around us on the floor and I winced.

       “I didn’t think it would be quite so … bloody.”

       Bobby barked out a laugh, breaking our cocoon of intimacy. “Blood! Hell, darlin’, the mess is the least of our worries. Are _you_ feeling all right?”

       I winced, using my hands to hold myself together as I struggled to sit up. Dean braced me, muttering at every small sound of pain that escaped. “I’m fine,” I grimaced, “just going to need a minute to catch my breath and then we can get moving.”

       Dean growled low in his throat. “Like hell! You’re barely in one piece! You need to take it easy—”

       I snorted. “Yeah, right. Krieger is going to be able to tell what we did, and we need to get moving as soon as possible--”

       “How can he tell?”

       I tilted my head, trying to put words to it. “I can feel it … inside. Before it was like a darkness, a slick oily sensation sliding around inside me that the power couldn’t push out. But now …” My gaze went to Dean’s. “It’s just different, is all. He’ll be able to tell that we’re not connected.”

       “Do we know where he is?” Dean asked Bobby.

       Bobby nodded briskly. “Crowley told us where he was hiding out.”

       I nodded briskly. “Good. Then we should get moving. We need to hit him hard, while the pain is still fresh.” I pressed against the injury more tightly, trying to force my power to hurry up and close the wound.

       “Stop that,” Dean snapped.

       My gaze shot to his. “What?”

       “Stop trying to rush things. Your power isn’t ready—” He bit off the rest of what he was going to and I just stared at him in shock. He jutted his jaw stubbornly. “Take it easy, Lex. A few extra minutes isn’t going to kill anyone.”

       “You want to bet?” I challenged, his embrace suddenly feeling a little too tight, a little too close. I struggled against his hold, trying to get some air. “Let me go, Dean.”

       “No!” He argued, his green eyes darkening as he shot a look at his brother. “Back me up here, Sam!”

       Sam just watched us both, hesitating to jump in the middle.

       Dean huffed. “Come on, Lex, I’m not out of line to think you need to take it easy! You just died, for fuck’s sake! If you don’t need a minute, maybe I do!”

       “You both need to take it easy,” Bobby interrupted the escalating argument. “Alex, he’s right, a little breather isn’t going to hurt either of you. We’ll get moving when you’re ready.”

       I quit squirming in Dean’s lap and gave him a hard look. “Don’t go thinking just because we’re soul linked now that you can go throwing your weight around. I’m not about to start following your orders.”

       Sam couldn’t hold back a snort of amusement.

       I speared him with a glare. “You either, Winchester. I may be the smallest person in this room but that doesn’t mean I can’t kick your ass.”

       Sam held up his hands in defense. “I wasn’t telling you what to do!”

       “Well, I was.” Dean snapped. “If you go into this fight with anything less than your full strength, you’re going to get killed. And I’m sorry, but watching you die in my arms once today was more than fucking enough!” A muscle jumped in his jaw, his grip on me tightening as his flare of temper settled back to a simmer. He let out an explosive breath and dropped his forehead to rest on mine, fighting back the strength of his emotions. “I’m sorry, Lex. I just … I think I need some air.” He carefully set me on the floor and disentangled our limbs. He brushed the hair out of my face as he got to his feet, his eyes filled with things he wasn’t saying. “I’ll be right back. Don’t … do _anything.”_   With that he strode out into the hallway and shoved his way through the back door, letting it slam behind him.

       “I will go speak with him,” Cas murmured, following quickly.

       Bobby swept his hat off his head and ran a hand through his hair restlessly, sharing a look with Sam.

       “We may not have time to wait for me to get back to full strength, Bobby,” I muttered, pushing off the floor and getting my feet beneath me. Both Bobby and Sam hurried to help me upright. “We need to hit Krieger fast and hard.”

       “I’m not arguing the point, but you’ve got some power, kiddo. This whole thing will go down a lot smoother if we have you packing a stronger punch.”

       I couldn’t argue much with that. I checked my wound and was relieved to see it had finally closed. Warmth was beginning to curl inside me and I could feel it starting to knit the inside layers back together as well. “Where is he holed up?”

       Sam ran his hands through his hair, watching me carefully. “Crowley said he’s in an old farmhouse on Orchard—but he’ll sit tight, especially if he’s injured. What can I get you, Alex? A drink, food--anything?”

       I flashed him a faint smile. “I’m fine, Sam.”

       Suddenly he wrapped his arms around me, pulling me tight against his chest. I leaned into him, wishing I could siphon some of the strength from his broad form but knowing there was no time for me to be weak right now. His grip tightened and I patted his back soothingly. “I really am fine, Sam. I promise.”

       “I’m sorry … I was angry with you, before,” his voice was muffled. He pulled back and his expression was tight. “I’m sorry that I didn’t understand.”

       “What do you mean?” I tilted my head back so I could look into his hazel eyes. The darkness in them was deeper than I had ever seen.

        He swallowed roughly, struggling for words. “When … when you were gone? After Bobby did the spell I could _see_ —your soul was broken, Alex. It was barely fragments of what it should have been. At that moment I thought for sure it was over, there was no way to bring you back, that we had pushed too far and Krieger had taken too much. But then Dean—” His expression shattered somehow, and I caught a glimpse of the pain he was in, of what watching Dean go through this was doing to him. He sucked in a steadying breath and touched my cheek. “I saw his soul. My brother and I … we’ve been through a lot. Life, death, heaven, hell — we have been in the middle of a battle our whole lives. All of those experiences have chipped away at us and for the first time I saw just _how much_ Dean has lost. His soul …” Sam choked, a gut-deep struggle to control his emotions. “It was fractured, just like yours. And when Bobby finished the link—those two fractured souls came together, Alex, and I just…” He stopped, words running dry as he just nodded his head silently, fighting to keep his composure. He brought those hazel eyes back to mine and the wonder in them made my chest ache. “You _complete_ each other, Alex. You … you need him and he needs you. You bring part of him alive that I’ve never seen before. I just want you to know that—that I understand now.” His rapt wonder became fierce. “And I will fight like hell to protect you both.”

       I reached up and cradled his face, the bond between us strengthening with every breath. “Sam, you're my brother. I want you to know that I will do everything in my power to get us all through this mess. But realize that this link changes nothing between the two of you. You’ve been there for him all the times I couldn’t be and you’ve pulled him through more than I can ever imagine. He never could have made it this far without you, and you have to know that you complete him, too. This Asuat link is strong, but it pales in comparison to how much you love your brother. Anyone who knows you recognizes that. Okay? So don’t do anything stupid to protect us. We can’t make it without you either.” 

       He pulled me close for another hug. “So I have another sibling, huh? I like that.” He pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead. “Once we get through this Krieger mess, I think we all deserve a vacation.”

       Another pair of arms wrapped around the both of us, nearly knocking us off our feet. “Enough of the mushy stuff. We need to make some battle plans.” Bobby’s rough beard scraped along my cheek and I grinned, unable to resist squeezing him tightly. He patted the back of my head and released us, wresting a laugh from Sam.

       “What do you have in mind, Bobby?” I felt a little steadier on my feet, the soft warmth inside me beginning to get stronger, sturdier.

       “We’re going to need some firepower. Krieger’s not going to be alone.”

       Sam’s eyes lit up. “The demon bombs?”

       “The what now?” I raised an eyebrow.

       Bobby nodded smugly. “Several of those should do nicely.”

       “Wait, seriously? That’s a real thing? You just throw a bomb and what, they run away?”

       Bobby just grinned. “Vaporized.”

       Hot damn. I needed to get me some of those.

 

       Sam and Bobby had a fully loaded trunk and several duffle bags of weapons ready to go and Dean and Cas still hadn’t come back inside. Concern was itching the back of my neck but I was trying to give him the space he needed. It had been a hell of a day and I couldn’t blame him for needing a little breather. But the clock was ticking and time was a luxury we did not have. Dean would just have to catch his breath in the car. I grabbed the shotgun resting by the back door just in case and stepped out into the back yard. There wasn’t much light back here and only a few cars scattered around this side of the house. Weeds and old leaves covered the pavement and a soft breeze scattered the leaves eerily. I was not a big fan of darkness and I hoped that Dean wasn’t too far back in the salvage yard.

       “Dean? You out here?” 

       Silence.

       “Cas? Bobby’s ready, we need to get moving—”

       A terrible screeching whine grated loudly in the quiet night. I tried to figure out which direction it was coming from but the wind threw the echoes all around. I took one step farther out into the yard. “Seriously, Dean, don’t make me come out there. We have to go—”

       Another terrible screech sounded even louder and I brought the shotgun up to my shoulder, all senses alert. “Dean, if you’re messing with me so help me God—” 

       A lone figure stepped out of the shadows, too slight to be Cas or Dean. They took one step toward me and then another.

       “Stop right there!” I shouted, chambering a round rapidly. “Who are you?”

       The figure straightened, lifting their chin in defiance. “Forget me so soon?” 

       Son of a fucking bitch.

 

       It was Grady.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope I didn't lose your interest! *chewing on my nails until I read some feedback* Love you all bunches and thanks for sticking with me this far! 
> 
> *I do not own Supernatural but sure do love borrowing the beloved characters and playing in their world for a short while.*


	42. The Death of Sean Grady

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hold onto your butts! This chapter is one hell of a ride. 
> 
> But before we get to it, I wanted to let you all know about some updates: I have spent the last month reviewing and editing Combustible as a whole. As we are (sadly) coming to the end of this story in the next handful of chapters, I would strongly recommend rereading Alex and Dean's journey. You, my wonderful readers, have been gracious and kind enough to give me some excellent feedback on particular chapters and pieces that did not seem to fit and could use some reworking. I have added several thousand words in amongst the existing chapters and completely reworked a few as well (note: chaps 13, 15, 24, and 25 have the biggest changes). Thank you so much for being part of this adventure with me and I am thrilled to bring you the next chapter! As always, I love to hear your thoughts and feedback! 
> 
> Now! Onto the death of Sean Grady ...

     “I have a message.”

     I tightened the shotgun on my shoulder. “I don’t care what you fucking have. Get the hell out of here, Grady.”

     “What, is a little rock salt supposed to scare me? After all the shit you did to me?” Grady shuffled farther out into the dim light. I took a moment to remember the satisfaction of shoving my power into his chest and a soft thrum warmed in my veins. But it was still weak, reminding me I needed to pace myself.

     “Apparently you didn’t take the hint,” I snapped tightly. “I warned you not to ever come near me or my family again, so you better have a damn good reason for showing your face.”

     He stepped toward me and I lifted the barrel, leveling it with the center of his chest. The faintest bit of light from the single pole light reached him, just enough to show me the twisted snarl on his face. “I told you, I have a message.”

     “Not good enough.” I squeezed the trigger and the gun kicked back into my shoulder with a vengeance, sending a blast of rock salt into his chest and throwing him several feet back in the darkness. Shouts exploded in the night air and the screen door slammed open behind me.

     “Alex! Are you all right? What the hell happened?!”

     “We have a visitor,” I gritted out as Sam came up on my left and Bobby came on my right, both swinging their weapons to the moaning form in front of us.

     “I know that sound,” Sam snarled, bringing his gun up higher. “What is that sniveling son of a bitch doing here?”

     “As far as I’m concerned, he’s trespassing. Already got one warning shot too many,” Bobby grunted.

     “Says he has a message.” The question was, did I give a fuck?

     Sam shot me a sidelong glance, a mere tip of his head in the darkness. “From?”

     Grady let out a whining moan. “Krieger, you assholes.”

     My brow lifted. “Ah, the self-righteous Grady deigns to use swear words. Is this supposed to convince me you’re tough now? All cozied up to the biggest baddie around, currying messages like a good little kiss-ass?”

     He curled over on his side, making the most obnoxious racket as he got his legs beneath him. Hell, I had died an hour ago and hadn’t made that much fuss.

     “Shut the hell up!” I barked. “You’re fine, rock salt can’t kill you. Spit out your message.”

     “Are we really going to listen to a word he has to say?” Bobby rumbled.

     I shrugged a shoulder, chambering another round and leveling it on him as he got back to his feet. I was half tempted to pull the trigger again just for the hell of it. “Yeah, you’re right. Nobody came running to help him so looks like he’s here alone. Do you want to take out the garbage or should I?”

     Sam stiffened beside me. “Nobody else came running? Have you seen Dean? Or Cas?”

     “That’s my message, bitch.” Grady spat, weaving but managing to stay upright. My hand tightened on the shotgun forestock. “We have your precious Dean. Krieger says he’s tired of waiting for you, says he left you a trail—if you can find it quickly enough, you might even get a chance to say goodbye.”

 _Son of a fucking bitch!_ I lurched toward him, pulling the trigger and another round of salt blasted him into the ground. I tossed the gun to the side and threw myself straight at him. Fuck pacing myself. I had torn him apart once already, I sure as hell could do it again.

     “Alex! Wait, _Alex--_!” Sam bellowed, scrambling to stop me.

     I shoved Grady onto his back and straddled his chest, pinning him down. A hot thrum of power skated through me, firing up my adrenaline. “You bastard –I’ll fucking destroy you!”

     “Do it!” He spat at me and I hauled back and slammed my fist into his face. The satisfying crunch of bones made a thrill sing through me as Grady’s blood slicked my knuckles. He thrashed beneath me, spitting blood. “You think I’m afraid of death? I have nothing left to live for! I watched Clarissa die - he tortured her to death in front of me _…_ and I’m supposed to be afraid of _you_?!”

     “You think I give a fuck?” I hissed at him, bending low so he could see the fury roaring through me. “I told you, Grady—I told you what he would do. I told you she wasn’t safe—”

     “Yeah well, now he has your Dean.” Grady taunted, blood showing on his teeth in the shadowed light. “What do you think he’s going to do to him? He prefers his knives, you know—how long do you think Dean will survive when Krieger starts peeling his skin from his bones? You remember what that feels like, don’t you--?”

     I roared in fury, driving my fist into his chest and I heard the sharp crack of his bones breaking. A forceful arm was suddenly circling my chest and dragging me backwards. I scrambled against Sam’s grip, struggling to get free, fighting to get my hands back on Grady. “You fucking bastard! I never should have let you live!”

     Grady rolled to his knees, spitting to the side. “Same to you, bitch. I should’ve slit your throat in that panic room when I had the chance.”

     Bobby growled and lurched forward, slamming heavy handed punches into Grady’s temple one after another without giving Grady a chance to fight back. It didn’t even take a handful of hits before he slumped forward senselessly.  

     Sam refused to let me loose. “Damn it, Alex! Take it easy! You don’t have enough energy to be wasting it on that piece of shit--!”

     “Let me go! Let me fucking go!” I slowed my struggles just long enough that I was able to get in a position to nail an elbow against Sam’s unguarded belly. His breath escaped in a grunt and I forced my way out of his loosened hold, blind fury forcing all other thoughts out of my head. Bobby caught my frantic lunge mid-step before I could lay a finger on that sack of shit. One finger, that was all I needed – I could tear him apart with just one fucking touch—

     “Get a hold of yourself!” Bobby snarled. “There’s more at risk here than just Dean! Are you listening to me?!”

     “Why are you saving him?! All he’s ever done is hurt this family!”

     “Calm the fuck down!” He shoved me back a step but my eyes stayed pinned on Grady’s slumped form. My heart was thundering in my chest and the hot thrum of power clamored for action.

     Sam grabbed my shoulders and spun me away from Grady. The shadows threw his face into sharp relief. “Stop, Alex! _Listen_!”

     “He said there’s a _trail_ , kiddo.” Bobby’s gruff rasp was pained and something about those few words was supposed to mean something to me.

     I buried my hands in my hair. “I’m not playing Krieger’s game, Bobby—just let me handle Grady and we can go burn his house to the ground! If he so much as lays one finger on Dean, I’ll fucking--”

     “I know, darlin’, I know. But if he’s trying to pull you in--”

     “He doesn’t have to pull me anywhere! We know where he is!”

     “No, you don’t.” Grady grunted, pushing himself off the ground with a moan. He glared up at me, spitefully smug in the midst of his dirty bloodied mess. “Where do you think he is? Orchard? We were there _days_ ago. Krieger never stays in one place for long. _I_ don’t even know where he is right now. He readied to move a few hours ago and sent me here with three demons to pull in your precious Dean. They took him back with them and left me here to deliver my message.” He spit on the ground, lifting hate filled eyes to mine. “Everyone knows you’re going to kill me. So do it already.”

     “You’re not strong enough, Alex,” Sam warned. “You still need to recover—”

     “Three demons?” I hissed, eyes narrowing. “There’s no way Dean went down to just three demons.”

     Grady smirked tauntingly. “I didn’t say that he went easy. In fact, I distinctly remember several of his bones breaking in the scuffle. It sounded good, Aly, it sounded real good.”

     I roared, diving toward him, Bobby and Sam’s shouts a distant sound beneath the pounding in my ears. Fury exploded viciously inside me. Red hot power burst into life in my veins and tore through my barely mended body. I grabbed a hold of Grady’s head and he shrieked at the first touch of pain licking at the inside of his skull. Bobby and Sam were pulling at me, tugging at my arms, struggling to pull me away from him but I held on, staring deeply into those familiar muddy brown eyes that had destroyed so much of my life. I let loose, no attempts to reign in the heat that pounded inside me, threatening to tear me apart. I had never felt it so strongly in my veins or so anxious to find an outlet. Grady's eyes rolled back in his head whitely as the power whipped out of my body and slammed into his. His thrashing beneath me turned panicked and he flailed hard enough to almost unseat me but I was determined. The other half of my soul was out there alone right now, in the hands of my worst nightmare and it was all Grady's fault. I was going to make him pay for all the pain and suffering he had caused my family. Cas, Bobby, Sam, and Dean - they were far more my family than Grady had ever been. I didn't feel a moment's regret as I watched my power start shredding him from the inside. He started to gasp and gurgle, the hatred in his eyes only growing as he felt the damage tearing through him. Sam and Bobby's attempts to pull me away redoubled as Grady's frantic thrashing got violent. He clutched at my wrists, clawing at my hands along either side of his head as he gurgled in pain. I noticed dispassionately that he was trying to speak.

     "Wish I'd--never--met you... bitch. You ruined … my life!"

     "Fuck you." I hissed into his face before letting loose that very last tendril of my restraint. I ceased to feel Sam and Bobby pulling at me, ceased to be aware of the night around us, and ceased to be consciously aware of anything but the frantic racing of Grady’s heart. His body thrashed and rolled as his skin started to bubble and crawl, his cells fighting the power’s forceful and consuming demand. The ever present darkness inside me, the place where I hid my darkest fears and worst memories somehow writhed up inside me, hungering for his pain. It fed off the terror in Grady’s eyes and the bleating shrieks that burst from him as I shoved driving pain into every extremity. Inspiration struck and I tightened my grip on his skull, threading my memories into his.

     I visualized every wound that had been put on my body in that cellar and forced his skin to bear the same. The claw marks on my shoulder, the slashes all down my back from the whip, Krieger’s carving of the Asuat—all of it. Right down to Krieger’s initials on my thigh. But where my injuries had been spread out and done over time, I inflicted them all in a single moment, every inch of him splitting and tearing horrifically. His screams were silent, his vocal chords unable to verbalize the pain. A twisted sense of justice sent a thrill through me as the cause of all my torture finally had a full understanding of what I had been put through. Time stretched out and ceased to have meaning as I simply sat and watched him writhe in torment. Everything inside me came to a glorious pinnacle as I felt the exact moment that Grady stopped fighting to live and instead fought to escape the pain. His eyes met mine and I watched as fear finally gave way to acceptance. I felt the last beat of his heart as he fell limp beneath me. I felt his soul leave his body and slowly withdrew my power from his corpse as my past was finally put to rest. My family, my life and all those wasted years with Grady – it was done. Finished. I would never have to tolerate his presence on this earth again. Now he had lost everything, he had experienced pain and agony beyond comprehension and he fully understood all of the things he had taken from me. I let one last blast of power shove through the wrecked remains of his body, annihilating what remained of his cadaver and sending it up in flames. The rest of the world came rushing back into my senses and I allowed Sam and Bobby to pull me to my feet at last. The power left me in a rush and cold chills raced over me from head to toe. The sudden absence weakened me as Sam hauled me backward into his arms.

     “… Alex?”

     “He’s gone,” I panted breathlessly. “He can’t hurt us anymore. He’s gone.”

     Sam ran a hand over my face, my hair, his concern growing with every breath. I could feel his and Bobby’s emotions clear as a bell. Damn it. I had broken clean through my shields, and the empathy was swamping me. “Easy, Alex. Just take it easy. You’re going to be all right.”

     “Like hell she will,” Bobby snapped. “You saw what she just did – that was some major league Chinuitor shit right there! Just look at her. That was pretty damn foolish--she can hardly stand up.”

     “Geez, Bobby, give her a break – that bastard deserved it—”

     “I’m not arguing that point, to be honest I just wish it had gone on longer. But look at her, Sam – really look at her.”

     Sam’s hold tightened on me. “I know.”

     “Do you?” Bobby barked sharply. “I’ve never worried about that demon blood inside her until now, Sam. You’ve been on the wrong end of that shit. You _know_ what just happened.”

     The hunger for Grady’s pain, the thrill of his death – son of a bitch, he was right.

     “She’ll be all right,” Sam said firmly but I could feel the uncertainty crawling through his mind.

     “I’m fine,” I stiffened, trying to pull away from Sam weakly. “There’s nothing you need to worry about. I'll be fine as soon as we go save Dean--”

     “Damn it, Alex!” Bobby growled. “Don't you think taking a bit of a breather _now_ makes a little  bit of sense?! You're not the Energizer bunny!”

     A soft sound broke across the night. A woman, whimpering quietly. All three of us went on high alert, grabbing for our weapons. I swept my shotgun out of the dirt and Sam and Bobby still had theirs in their grasp. Sam kept an arm around me and I realized it was the only thing holding me up. The sound came again and we scrambled around several cars in the side lot until we found a limp figure sprawled in the grass. I noticed the empty holster on her hip and the badge on her shoulder as Bobby knelt down at her head.

     “Jody?!”

     “Dean—they’ve got Dean, Bobby—” She coughed wetly and I fell to her side. My hands landed in a puddle of her blood.

_Goddamn it._

     Bobby gripped my arm tightly. “Alex, what’s wrong with her?”

     I grabbed a hold of her hand and took a breath, gathering a small trickle of warmth and sending it into her body to assess. It was so dark in this corner of the lot, the pole light not strong enough to send its rays this far into the darkness. Jody’s jagged breathing warned me that it wasn’t good even before I found the internal bleeding.

     “Alex—you’re Alex?” She tried to struggle upward and Bobby put a firm hand on her shoulder.

     “Easy, Mills—”

     “Demons – gave a message—” She coughed again and a gush of blood pumped out of the wounds in her belly. “Follow the trail … they said follow--”

     “You’re going to be fine, Jody, just breathe.” Sam soothed, moving to her side and casting a worried look at Bobby.

     “I’m going to burn those bastards back to hell,” Bobby promised with a growl. “Quit squirming, just take it easy. What the hell did they do to her, Alex?”

     I pressed a hand to the wound in her belly, my eyes dropping closed. This was all my fault. This was the friend that had saved Bobby and Dean at the school. She meant a lot to all of them. I couldn’t allow her to be collateral damage in my fight against Krieger. I refused to let anyone else get hurt because of me. I struggled for a moment to pull enough power together to send into her body. I had used more on Grady than I even knew I was capable of and now I felt hollow, as if I was down to reserves. But I couldn’t let her die. It simply wasn’t an option.

     It hurt this time, to use it. A dull ache deep inside my chest that I ignored. I knit her back together, sealing the open wounds and pulling her muscles back into place. I pumped the blood clear from her lungs and managed to heal even the scar remaining from her injuries before my energy bottomed out. I threw an arm to the ground to keep myself from slumping over.

     Jody threw an arm around my shoulders tightly. “Thank you. I don’t know how you just --… but thank you.”

     “Jody, you’re … ok?” Bobby asked gruffly.

     “Yeah, Bobby, I’m all right now.” She released me and I leaned against the car beside us, trying to hide my weakness from the guys. Shit. I didn’t have time to for this. We had to go save Dean.

     “Alex, did you--?” Sam reached out and I forced myself to my feet.

     “She’s fine. All better now. Let’s get moving—”

     “Damn it!” Sam grabbed my shoulder and I almost went down beneath the extra weight. “You can’t keep doing this!”

     “She was dying,” I said shortly. “Should I have let her die for me? For Dean? You both love her. I can feel it. She’s family. I’m protecting this family, Sam. So let’s quit wasting time.”

     “Wasting time! Look, I want to go after Dean just as much as you do! But you’re in no shape to face off with Krieger right now—”

     “She doesn’t have time to take a breather, Sam,” Jody interrupted, getting to her feet. Bobby helped her up wordlessly. “There's a little girl out there somewhere -- they took her! That message – they left a trail of _people_ for you, Alex! I am just the beginning. They … they abducted a little girl from next door. I was already on my way out here because I couldn't shake a bad feeling, and the mother called in that she heard screaming. When I came to investigate, Cas and Dean were arguing and Cas took off before I could reach them. Dean was on the far end of this lot, making a hell of a racket but somehow he heard that little girl screaming. They … they had her trapped in the trunk of that car.” She gestured farther out into the lot and her voice got tight. “He went to help and they jumped him. All four of them at once – he was distracted or they never would've gotten him down. That poor little girl just kept screaming … it was awful.”

     Oh god. Sam and Bobby and I had only been yards away, in the house. How had we not heard _any_ of this happening?!

     Jody cleared her throat. “I tried to help him but three more got the jump on me. They took that little girl with them. Said she was the next piece of the trail, that you had to come and find her. Krieger wants you to follow the bodies, Alex. He wants you distracted or he wants you weak – he wins whether they die or you try and save them.”

     “Then what the hell am I supposed to do?” I rasped, my voice raw. Silence fell and I battled back the fear that I would be too late for Dean, that after all we had been through it still might not be enough to save him.

     And in the silence, the faint scream of a small child filled my heart with dread.


	43. The Trail

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to give each of you a preemptive hug for this chapter. Just .. it will be okay. I know my muse sometimes leads me down some dark and twisty paths but ... hang in there. It will be okay.

     The little girl wouldn’t let go. She was wailing, her blond ringlets a sweaty tangled mess on her face. Her tiny arms were wound tightly around my neck, her fingers latched together to prevent me lifting her off. She pressed her damp face against the side of my neck, her choked sobs stuttering out between panicked breaths. Her terror sank into my bones, our skin to skin contact trumpeting her emotions clear as a bell. She had been left in the bottom of an old root cellar, her little leg broken and bruises raised on her skin. Fury had nearly taken me out at the knees and my anger had pushed me through the exhaustion and allowed me to heal her. Those bastards weren’t getting sent back to hell – I was going to annihilate the sick fucks.

     “Come here, kiddo,” Jody soothed, reaching for the little girl again.

     She burrowed even farther into me, wrapping her tentacle-like legs around my waist. I didn’t have the heart to pry her off and looked helplessly at Sam.

     He sighed and stepped closer. “Hey, Ellie … come here, sweetheart. Alex needs to go with Uncle Bobby and get Dean from the bad men. You can’t come with us, sweetheart, so you need to go with Miss Jody. She’ll get you back home to Mom.”

     Ellie raised her head at that. “Home? I can go home?”

     “Straight home. No stops, no detours.” Sam promised seriously, giving her a little smile.

     “The bad men said I can never go home,” she sniffled.

     Sam ran one of his big fingers down her face, his tender look taking a fierce edge. “Don’t worry about those bad men. We’re going to take care of them for you.”

     Reluctantly she dropped her legs from around my waist and I carefully shifted her tentacle hold from me to Jody. The tough sheriff wrapped a stiff arm around her waist and hoisted her up high on her hip. “All right, kiddo. That’s more like it. Bobby, you be careful, you hear—?”

     Bobby raised a hand in acknowledgement. “We’ll be fine. You just get back safe.”

     Jody gave a sharp nod. “Will do.” We all stood for a moment, feeling the weight of the darkness that surrounded us. We were in the middle of an abandoned farm in the depths of the night. She had a long walk back even in the best of circumstances and we had no idea of knowing whether the demons were still out there somewhere, watching us. Waiting for them to take off undefended. Jody pulled out her sidearm and kept it down at her side, out of Ellie’s view. The sheriff nodded to us again, tightening her hold on the little girl, and spoke in a forcefully bright tone. “All right then. Let’s get you home, kiddo. Your mom was worried sick about you …” They took off at a brisk pace and even in the darkness I could see her constantly scanning the darkness as if her readiness alone could prevent an oncoming attack.

     “We need to keep moving,” Bobby said gruffly.

     “I can’t hear anything yet.” I shifted in agitation. The moments stretched out as the sounds of Jody’s tromping steps in the high weeds and the high whimpers of the little girl slowly faded. The tension between the three of us grew as the silence of the night took over. There were no whispers, no cries, nothing but the soft click of crickets and trickle of water nearby. Had we taken too long with Ellie? Was the next victim already dead? Then what? What if we didn’t know where to go next? What if we couldn’t follow the trail--

     Every second that passed built my anxiety to a new extreme. Every moment we stood here, waiting and listening, Dean was being tortured. That fact gnawed on the edges of my sanity. Krieger wouldn’t wait for me to get there to start causing pain. He _enjoyed_ pain. And I might as well have handed Dean over on a silver platter. To fight Krieger was one thing, but to defy him and declare that only Dean could claim me—it had been the height of recklessness. And Dean was paying for that mistake. Oh god, what if Krieger found out that Dean now held the link to my Asuat--

     Something caught my ear and I gripped Sam’s arm tightly. There it was again. A terrible masculine wail that drifted eerily in the night.

     “Is that--?”

     Sam simply wrapped an arm around my waist and we took off into the darkness. Bobby fell in beside us without a word.

 

     Hours. We had been doing this for hours. Two more victims, both people from the small town of Sioux Falls that had no business being caught up in this mess. Complete innocents in this fight against darkness. When we found the wailing man, he had been sliced open, his insides spilled out into the field and his cries nothing but a litany of confusion. Bobby had murmured that his name was Patrick and that he did odd jobs for everyone in town. A real jack-of-all-trades with a big heart. He was only minutes from dying when we reached him and it had been a miracle that we had been able to hear his cries at all. His panicked confusion swamped me immediately and I could barely hold onto my own thoughts as I knelt at his side. I didn’t have enough strength to heal him back to full strength, had barely managed to put his insides back where they belonged and patch the gash together enough that he would live. It ate at all three of us to leave him lying in the field until morning but we didn’t have a choice. The sounds in the air of the next victim were already rapidly beginning to fade.

     The second victim made my knees buckle as soon as we came within eyesight. Sam had barely been able to keep me moving forward. It was a young boy up in a tree, a stake driven through his shoulder to keep him suspended several feet off the ground.

     “Come on, Alex. Let’s get him down. Maybe you won’t have to heal him, maybe we can just get him to a doctor…”

     But we all knew that wouldn’t be enough. He was eight, maybe nine and had fallen completely apart when we appeared out of the darkness. He recognized Sam and started begging and pleading to go home as if Sam could fly him there in a moment and erase the hell he had been put through. As soon as we got him down he started bleeding too heavily to even think about transportation even if we had magically been able to manage it. Sam had propped me against the tree and I pulled the boy’s head into my lap, murmuring and humming bits and pieces of nursery rhymes that I barely remembered. He was far too old for them but I couldn’t seem to stop myself. He was afraid, he was so afraid and something about my voice seemed to soothe him. My fingers had combed through his matted hair and I had tipped my head back against the tree trunk, digging deep for reserves I wasn’t sure I had. He was eight, damn it. He was not going to die because of _me._ He should be climbing trees and making forts and fighting pretend dragons. Not facing off with demons who could _—_ I had to shut down my mind, block out the sight of him hanging there, helplessly waiting. This was me, damn it. All of this, all of their pain was on _me._

     “…Alex?” Sam’s soft question brought me awake and I was horrified to find that I was barely conscious. Exhaustion was pulling at me, dragging each breath from deep in my chest.

     “I’m fine—I’ve got him.” I straightened and tightened my hold on him, forcing myself to focus. 

     “Alex, you can’t—” Sam’s voice was so torn.

     “I can’t _not_ , Sam.” I stared down at the boy blearily, the darkness giving soft edges to everything. There was a small flicker of warmth still inside me, I could feel it. I sent it through my gentle touch on his forehead and the kid relaxed at last, his soft whimpers easing. I blocked the worst of the pain receptors from firing into his brain and pulled the edges of his blood vessels back together to stop the worst of the bleeding. I struggled, trying to check his bones but kept losing concentration. Again and again I tried to push more power into his body but it simply wasn’t there to give. “No, damn it! I— come on…” I hissed, hunching over him, touching my forehead to his. I had to be able to do this. I had to be able to fix him.

     “Alex, if you can’t, darlin’, no one will blame you—”

     “I have to be able to do this, Bobby! I have to!” The words were torn from me, clawing at my insides. Every moment I struggled with this was another moment Dean was at Krieger’s mercy. I pulled the little boy against my tighter as if I could crawl into his veins, could share some of the vitality I normally had with him.

     “Will he live?” Bobby asked gruffly.

     “Yes, but I can’t just—”

     Sam took the boy from my arms, his little head lolling limply in sleep. Blessed sleep, at least I had managed that much for him.

     “No, Sam, he’s not all right, I haven’t healed him—”

     Bobby gathered me in his arms, tucking my head against one shoulder and throwing my legs over his other arm. He shuffled me up high on his chest and started walking away from Sam and the little boy.

     “Bobby, no, I can’t just leave him!” I pushed against his chest weakly. He was strong, much stronger than I had ever given him credit for. He seemed old and ageless all at the same time, the father figure I had never had in my life. I wondered faintly how old exactly he was.

     “Hush,” he rumbled, his beard rasping against my forehead.

     “But, Bobby, I –”

     “Alex, just lay still for a damn minute. You can’t keep killing yourself. You saved him, sweetheart. You did good.”

     His concern sank into me, infiltrating my exhaustion and adding another layer of anxiety to my overwhelming fear for Dean. He didn’t understand – if I couldn’t heal a little boy, how was I supposed to save Dean? “I’m so tired, Bobby. I’m so fucking tired,” I whimpered into his chest, half hoping he wouldn’t hear me.

     He walked steadily on and I could faintly hear Sam talking softly somewhere behind us. “I know, darlin’, I know. Just take it easy. We’ll find him. Dean is a tough son of a bitch. I raised that boy smart. He’s not going down to a two-bit demon like Krieger. You just take it easy and we’ll figure this all out.”

 

     The third victim was far worse.

     She was pregnant. At least five months along. We were almost on top of her before we saw her laying there in the tall grass. Tears started rolling down my face before my feet even hit the ground. I reached out with my empathy, trying to get a sense of how bad the damage was and fear struck straight to my core. She felt quiet. Her emotions, her mind, everything – utter calm. I thought for a moment that we had already lost her, lost them both. But a heartbeat later I felt her soothing calm intentionally forcing down her fear. She knew the risks of extreme stress harming the baby. She knew the pain alone could cause a miscarriage. So she buried it. Deep. In a place most people didn’t even know existed. But she did. I suddenly sensed the soft sweet emotions of her child, and a stuttered sob escaped me. The baby was doing just fine.

     Sam swore a blue streak and Bobby quickly pressed me out of the way.

     “Bobby, no—”

     “We got this one, Alex. You just sit back a minute.”

     “But Bobby—”

     “No, Alex,” Sam snapped, blocking me from reaching out to her, grabbing my hands so I couldn’t even touch her. “You can’t.”

     “But Sam, the _baby_ —”

     “Goddamn it, Alex, _no_! You think Krieger didn’t choose these people on purpose? You think he didn’t calculate exactly how much it would take to destroy you?! He knew you couldn't walk away from them!”

     The mom’s head came up, her first outward sign of life. I couldn’t see her clearly in the darkness but she had a riot of blond curls that were tangled and muddy from the ground. “You’re … Alex?” Her voice was soft, breathless. She was fighting so hard to keep it together, to keep this fucked up mess from harming her baby. A fierce protector, through and through.

     “Damn it, Sam, I have to try—!” I weakly tried to push him out of the way but he was a brick wall, his broad shoulders giving me no room to get around him.

     “I have … a message. For you.” That soft voice was thready.

     Bobby snarled something vicious and his hands were suddenly pressing tightly against her thigh. “Your shirt, Sam, give me your shirt. Hold tight, little momma, you're doing just fine.”

     Sam quickly shed a layer and pressed it tightly against her leg. I could smell the bitter copper of her blood in the air. She had already lost so much--

     She lifted her head again, trying to see me beyond Sam’s shoulders. “They said … if you came to tell you—there’s no escape. They’re coming for you—”

     “Hush, we’ll worry about all that later.” Bobby said gruffly, patting her on the shoulder awkwardly. “We need to get you taken care of first.”

     “Bobby—” Sam’s tone was dark.

     Bobby reached out and grabbed Sam’s hand, adding to the pressure on her leg. “You hurt anywhere else, little momma?”

     “Just … the leg. They said they wanted me –aware. Said to wait here. That Alex was coming. But when I hit the ground, my back—I can’t move.”

     Goddamn it, _no._ I stumbled to my feet and lurched around the men, desperately grabbing a hold of her ankle. Sam and Bobby shouted but a terrible roaring filled my ears. I had to fix this. I had to. All of this had happened because of me, because of my presence in their small town. My heart started pounding sluggishly and my very bones ached as I struggled to force my power into her body. I dug deep for heat, for warmth, for _anything_. I had to fix this. I had to be able to save everyone. A tendril of heat so thin I could barely feel it finally stretched through my fingertips, wrapping around her spine and softly closing the gash in her leg. I didn’t have enough awareness to figure out what was broken but it didn’t matter. I just had to heal it. I couldn’t sense her body anymore, couldn’t feel what my power was doing to her. I just felt it leaving my body, hollowing out my bones and slowing everything down inside me. The lady gasped, jerking out of my reach and I tumbled, hitting the ground roughly.

    The loud growl of engines suddenly warned that vehicles were rolling up on all four sides, the air filling with shouts. I rested my forehead on the cool dirt beneath me, my sluggish heartbeat loud in my ears. The demons had come. I had reached the end of the trail and they were taking me to Krieger at last.


	44. Choose

     Two demons dragged me out of the vehicle, gagged and blindfolded, both grabbing an arm and hauling me along between them into a building. Twisted darkness seeped into my skin through their rough hold and my entire body was burning with exhaustion. But every step brought me closer to Dean. That was all that mattered. They marched me deep inside the building until all I could hear were echoes of our footsteps. A strange sensation suddenly skittered down the back of my neck and I stiffened, my strung out nerves trying to go on high alert. The gaping hollowness inside my chest suddenly … _shifted._

     Dean was reaching for me.

     I threw myself backward, trying to stop our forward momentum. They grunted and fought me forward but I dug in my heels, fear and desperation rushing up inside me. If I could feel Dean, he had to be close. The faint taste of his presence faded and I jerked against the demons harder, struggling to get any sound out around the putrid gag in my mouth. He had to hear me, had to know I was there! But the demons simply forged ahead, ignoring my fight to get loose, dragging me deeper into the building until they reached their destination. They wrestled me into position despite my thrashing, securing my hands and wrenching them tightly overhead to some exposed piping, jerking the chains until my toes barely scraped the ground. They left quickly, the door slamming loudly behind them.

     Insidious fear grew as that flicker of Dean’s presence came again. He was hurting and it was _bad._ The touch of his mind was barely there for a breath but I could feel how hard it was for him to reach out to me, for him to focus through the haze of pain. That pain was all my fault. Krieger never would have come near him if I hadn’t drawn his whole family into my mess. He was hurting because of _my_ mistakes, because I hadn’t been strong enough to leave as soon as we broke the Asuat, and I hadn’t been strong enough to fend off the demons when they had come for me in that field. If I had been stronger, I would’ve been able to heal those people and still been able to storm in here with Bobby and Sam at my side. We would’ve taken down the whole lot of them and annihilated Krieger in one fell swoop. But my weakness had landed all of us in this mess. I had no idea where the demons had even taken Sam and Bobby and could only hope that they were all right. I couldn’t feel even a hint of their presence and Dean’s was fading with every moment. I couldn’t fail them again. I had to be strong enough to take out Krieger on my own. Everything rested on me now. Their lives were in my hands.

     Fresh determination steadied my frantic heartbeat and I worked my wrists against the chains, trying to test any give in the piping. It didn’t budge. The blindfold blocked any hint of light and the sour gag cut into the sides of my mouth. I kicked my legs, testing for anything nearby but they just swung through empty space. I had been bound like this before, in the cellar. I knew I only had one chance to get out of the chains on my own. I was going to have to make my wrists bleed – _a lot --_ and use the blood to slick their grip on me. If that failed, I would have to break my own wrists. I clenched my jaw tightly. Dean was out there and he needed me. I could do this.

     A sudden sound broke the oppressive silence and I froze. There—it came again. Desperate hope started burning through my exhaustion. Bobby? Or Sam? Surely they hadn’t been stupid enough to put us in the same room together—but if they did, all hell was about to break loose. Hope surged.

     A wet cough sounded from the figure on the floor. “…L-Lex?” 

 _Dean_.

     I shouted desperately, trying to force a coherent sound around the gag. My words were stifled to nothing but grunts and snarls and I jerked against the restraints, straining blindly in the darkness toward his voice. _I_ _’_ _m here! I_ _’_ _m right here! Are you_ _—_ _can you_ _—_ _Dean, I_ _’_ _m right here!_

     “Lex, don’t – don’t worry.” His voice was thin and ragged, sending terror racing through my veins. “I’m _fine._ Just … stay strong, baby girl. We’re going to get this bastard. No matter what happens, you stay strong.”

     He was so close, he was so goddamn close, and if he wasn’t even trying to get me down-- His flare of pain swelled into my mind. Oh god, it was bad. I shrieked through the gag, struggling harder to work myself free. He was trying to fight back the pain, trying to hide the worst of it from me. I needed to see him. Fuck but I needed to see him so badly. Look into those green eyes and make sure that Winchester grit wasn’t failing him when he needed it most. I thrashed helplessly, all my movement only managing to tighten the chains at my wrists. It felt like I was tearing tendons but couldn’t manage to break the skin.

 _Lex._ Dean’s tired but calm voice was suddenly clear my mind and I nearly sobbed in relief. _Talk to me. Need to hear you._

 _You can hear me now? God, Dean, I_ _’_ _m so sorry_ _—_ _I_ _’_ _m going to fix all this!_

 _Yeah, baby girl, I can hear you. The link changed when I took the Asuat. Can feel you when you_ _’_ _re close. Been trying to reach you for hours, make sure you_ _’_ _re all right. You feel_ _…_ _weak. You ok?_

     My relief turned to terrible fear. If he could feel my emotions, could feel what I was experiencing, then that meant when Krieger came for me – I shut down the thought before it could fully form and bleed over to Dean. _Don_ _’_ _t talk, just breathe, Dean. I_ _’_ _m right here. I_ _’_ _m going to get us out of this, you hear me?_ I propelled a wave of comfort and love into him and the link between us flared stronger. Emotion welled up inside him and I felt something give way as his grip on blocking the pain faltered. His pain poured over me in a rush and I fought through it, desperate to reach him, frantic to try and ease his agony. _God, what did he do to you?!_

 _Doesn_ _’_ _t matter._ _‘_ _m okay._

     His thoughts were getting hazy and fear raced up my throat. _Stay with me, Dean. Don_ _’_ _t give up, understand? We save each other--that_ _’_ _s how this thing works, remember? Dean, stay with me!_

 _Fight hard. Don_ _’_ _t let that bastard win_. He was struggling to keep himself focused but I suddenly had the clearest sense of being wrapped in his arms. The safe haven of his hold was warm, like laying in the gentle heat of the sun.   

 _Stay with me!_ I shouted the words through the gag even as I shoved them back into his mind. He was broken, god, how had Krieger broken him so badly in just a few hours?! I couldn’t tell the extent of his injuries but I could feel the waves of pain wracking his body and his strength was all but completely gone. All I needed was to touch him, just once – one caress and I could make it all go away. Surely then the power would wake up, blazing back to life and erasing that bastard’s damage. I refused to acknowledge that I couldn’t even feel my power right now, that the heat inside me was nonexistent. I _was_ going to be able to fix him. But first I had to get free.

     The squeal of hinges warned that a door was opening and I thrashed harder against my chains. A dark wave of hatred rolled into the room, telling me exactly who it was.

_Krieger._

     “Look, the filthy whore has come crawling back to Daddy.”

     I fucking hated the sound of his rasping voice and the tremor of fear it shot through me. I could hear a dozen demons with him and their sick sense of anticipation brewed in the background, swelling in the air and sinking into my pores.

     Dean’s breath started to tighten. “Leave her alone, you sick fuck. Try taking on someone your own size.” Damn it, Dean’s voice was higher now. He had forced himself to his feet and I could feel the blood seeping dangerously from his wounds. His focus was still hazing around the edges but he stubbornly held his ground.

     Krieger snarled from just behind my shoulder. “I’ve had enough of your sass, boy. The only reason you’re still alive is because I want her to watch that last bit of life drain from your eyes.” His touch skated up the side of my neck and I recoiled. “I want to hear her beg for you.” His fingers left my skin and with a quick tug the gag was untied and yanked from my mouth.

     “I’ll destroy you—” I hissed, “I’ll fucking destroy every last one of you!”

     Krieger clicked his teeth at me. “Now, now, my pet. You seem to forget I have the power here. Don’t you remember the feel of my blades? Just ask your little friend, I’m sure he can tell you just what they feel like. Refresh your memory, as it were.”

     Desperation roared through me. “Let me see him-- _let me goddamn see him_!” I thrashed against the chains, slamming my body back into Krieger’s with all my strength. If I could just work my hands free--

     Krieger snarled and tore the blindfold off my face. The harsh yellow glow of the industrial lights blinded me for a moment and I struggled to find him. But Dean was there, less than ten feet from me, looking bloody and torn but alive. I knew his strength was a front, I could feel a dangerous amount of blood draining from his body but Dean was never one to show weakness. He even had his chin tilted cockily and danger simmering in his eyes. But I could feel what that façade cost him.

     “You threw him in my face once, Alexis, now I’m going to make him suffer for it. You _will_ beg for his life,” Krieger swore.

     I clenched my jaw, frantically searching Dean for the worst of his injuries. There were carving marks all over his body, and I could tell he was favoring his left side beneath the swagger and fear raced through me. _Why the hell were you outside alone, you jackass?! He never should have gotten anywhere near you!_

     Dread suddenly arced inside him. _Lex, they took a little girl_ _—_

 _We got her_ _—_ _I saved her, Dean, and the others too. But Krieger had you for such a long time_ _\--_

 _No regrets. I_ _’_ _m right  beside you where I belong._

     Krieger stepped behind me. “Your mongrel was quite entertaining while we waited for you, Alexis.” Krieger slipped a sweaty hand around my throat, pressing himself all along my back, the voice of my nightmares hissing into my ear. “Turns out we had quite a bit in common to discuss. He’s had you. _I_ _’_ _ve_ had you. We both are rather fond of your … assets.” Krieger’s damp hand slid beneath my collar and groped his favorite part of my anatomy.

     Dean lurched forward, a growl of rage escaping him. “Get your fucking hands off her!” His momentum was brought up short by the harsh clank of metal and I realized he was secured to the floor with short chains. We were in some sort of an industrial building that had been half gutted, and obviously Krieger and his nest had made some adjustments to the amenities to suit their needs.

     Krieger’s grip tightened and I clenched my jaw, refusing to acknowledge the pain. “Your lover doesn’t seem to like sharing.” Krieger ran the side of his sweat-soaked face along my cheek, pressing even closer behind me and I felt the disgusting signs of his arousal.

     “I’m going to destroy you.” I hissed at him.

     “No,” Krieger snapped, his tone sharp. “You’re going to be my _pet_. I created you. I took you from among the millions of chattel that roam this earth and _I_ formed you into a perfect Chinuitor. You were nothing but a bastard Nephilim when I started with you. Now you’re capable of far more than you can imagine. But first – first we need to dispose of the excess baggage in your life.” His attention shifted to Dean and I stiffened.

     “Don’t you fucking touch him--”  
     “I can do whatever I damn well please. My demons told me what condition you were in when they found you out in that field.” Krieger clicked his tongue against his teeth and shook his head slightly, raking his face along mine. Somehow the position was far more intimate than if he were staring into my eyes and I hated the fact that his darkness was sliding beneath my skin, rolling through me in a sick wave. “I gave you every opportunity to save your little family. You had four chances to prove that they were your first priority but you failed them. Instead you spent some serious rage on that useless filth Grady and then healed all those others -- those _strangers._ And where did that leave you? Utterly helpless, and then you brought your entire little posse to me like sheep to a shepherd.” He stepped back and gave me a little shove, making my bones grind in my wrists as I swayed. I thrashed, trying to kick back at him, trying to spin myself around to face him but he just laughed and gave me another shove that set me swinging more widely. At last, I finally felt my wrists tearing and the first drop of blood slid down my forearm.

     “Four chances,” Krieger crooned. “One for your pal Sam, one for good ol’ Bobby, one for your friend with feathers, and the last for Dean-o here. I figured since he’s so damn special, he was worth the bonus life on that last victim, a two-for-one since he’s so precious to you. Had you let any one of those people die along the trail, you would’ve had just enough juice left to save at least _one_ of your beloved pets in here. Or at least put on a damn good show while trying.” Laughter broke out from the demons scattered around the room and Krieger’s gaze narrowed. “But I’m betting it was your rage on Grady that really did you in, wasn’t it? Was it worth it, pet? You slaked your thirst for his blood but now Dean here is ripe for the picking.”

     My painful swinging finally came to a stop and I faced Krieger fully for the first time. I took in the sweat rolling down the sick pallor of his skin, twisted satisfaction rising up inside me. He was in pain. He was in vicious pain and all his bluster was just to try and hide it from me. The sweet taste of imminent victory made me feel a bit lightheaded. “I’m not afraid of you, Krieger. You’ve already lost.”

     Krieger straightened, his calm fracturing.

     Blood was beginning to drip steadily down both of my arms. “You know it’s true. The Asuat has already been broken. _You don_ _’_ _t own me anymore_.”

     Tension rose up amongst the demons.

     A sick flush rose up on Krieger’s skin beneath the pallor. “Don’t be a fool, Alexis. You’re still mine. Mine to control, mine to fuck, my creation that all of earth _will_ stand in awe of! You think you broke the Asuat? You think some tiny spell can undo my claim on you? That link is eternal! That link—”

     “Belongs to Dean now!” I crowed triumphantly. “You could feel it the moment we transferred it, couldn’t you? Of course you could … your soul was getting ripped right out of your body. You fused our souls together when you carved that fucking Asuat on me – now you’ve lost far more than you could’ve ever hoped to gain!”

     Krieger grabbed me around the throat, his face turning a mottled purple.

     I forced words through his tight hold. “That link _is_ eternal—so you can’t … kill him. Dean holds my Asuat now! If you kill him, you kill _me_. Then where would all … your precious plans be? _You can_ _’_ _t kill him!_ ”

     “You underestimate the power I wield,” Krieger hissed ferociously. “I recovered knowledge that God himself had banned from this earth! Asuats destroyed hundreds of thousands of lives and _I_ have created one and sealed it with my very soul – I have contained its power! You think I don’t know how to restore your soul to mine? To bring your worthless spirit back to heel? You need to remember your place.” Never had I seen such rage as the fire that lit his black eyes. Every inch of him was straining, twisting, nearly vibrating with fury and even as I watched, he lost any semblance of control. He slammed a fist into my face, my ribs, my stomach -- each punch throwing me back into the restraints. He was trying to speak but all that escaped were spit filled snarls and growls, each impact landing harder than the one before it.

     It was all I could do to focus on trying to block my pain from Dean. He couldn’t handle anything else, just staying on his feet was almost killing him. But Dean dug deeper into my mind, refusing to be pushed out.

_Damn it, Lex, stop worrying about me!_

_I can handle it. He_ _’_ _s hurt--he won_ _’_ _t be able to keep this up._

_What the fuck are you trying to prove?!_

_We_ _’_ _ve got him, Dean_ _–_ _as soon as I can slip these restraints, I can_ _–_ The rest of my words were lost as Krieger lit into me with a fresh viciousness. Dean’s chains rattled louder and louder as he fought them with everything he had, furious threats thundering across the room, but I could feel his strength rapidly draining.

     When Krieger finally paused, my blood was running down his hands and he was heaving for breath, his black eyes still filled with rage. Never had I seen him so consumed. “You were nothing before me,” he hissed darkly. “I can take you back to nothing again and annihilate everything in this world that you hold dear _—_ ”

     I sucked in a strained breath. “You’ve lost, Krieger. …Everything you planned for, everything you’ve done … you’ve already lost it all. _I’m_ about to destroy _you_.” I dug deep, far deeper than I thought possible and finally felt the warm curl of my power rising up. Enough. It would have to be enough. I had to be strong enough to end this.

     He roared, jaw clenched in fury. He grabbed my collar and pulled me toward him. The veins in his neck were standing out, his rancid breath gusting into my face. “I haven’t lost anything! The only thing keeping me from what I want is your goddamn stubbornness and that mouth of yours. I broke you down once--I’ll do it again! You’ll crawl for my forgiveness before I’m through!” He threw me away from him and turned his furious gaze on his demons. “Bring me the others.”

     The demons scrambled to obey and Krieger started pacing across the room. He was ashen now, and there was an unsteadiness about him that told me he was weakening. His livid gaze snapped to Dean. “You’re not beyond my reach, boy. I can keep you alive for a very long time if it suits my purposes.” His eyes cut to mine and narrowed. “You will fall in line. You _will_ obey my orders. How many people die and how much pain dear Dean is put through is entirely up to you. Your fear for him may prove to be the only motivation that you need.”

     With that taunting remark he turned on his heel and continued pacing. It was only a few moments before the door crashed open to admit Sam and Bobby single handedly trying to take on the dozen demons sent to retrieve them. They had no weapons, no spells, and the demons were all thoroughly pissed. They barely made it three steps into the room before the demons quit playing nice. The sound of Sam and Bobby’s pained snarls tore at me as Krieger spun me in my chains to face him. The fire in his eyes was brighter but sweat was running in constant rivulets down his face. “Let’s cut the bullshit, shall we? I’m going to give you two choices. You _are_ going to choose. If you don’t, _I_ get to choose for you.”

       _Alex, I love you._

      _Damn it, Dean! This is not the time for you to_ _give up on me! We_ _’_ _re all making it through this, you understand me?! Don't you fucking give up_ _!_

      _Listen to me -- no matter what happens, Lex, I love you. You do what you have to do._

 _No! Don_ _’_ _t you say goodbye to me!_

 _If I mean anything to you at all, you_ _’_ _ll do one last thing for me_ _–_ _choose to save Sammy._

Krieger gave me a shake, licking his lips in anticipation. “Two choices, Alexis: who dies first?”

     A terrible stillness consumed me. “… and the other choice?”

     “Who gets the pleasure of killing them.”

     “I’m not playing your sick fucking games, Krieger.”

     “You sure you want me to choose, pet?” Anticipation lit up his sick features. He reached over and snatched a knife from the nearest demon before striding back toward me. He played with it, watching my eyes as he popped the buttons on my shirt slowly, one after another. “The clock is ticking, Alexis. What’s it going to be?”

     “You’re not killing any of them,” I hissed.

     Krieger rolled his eyes. “Wrong answer.” He flicked the knife blade up to my neck and cut a long slice down the side of my throat, straight through my anti-possession tattoo.

     Icy cold horror flooded me. _No, oh god no--_

     Krieger glanced over my shoulder at the demons and nodded sharply. I heard fabric tearing and sharp exclamations from all three men as their tattoos were desecrated. “Does that make things a little clearer for you? Your options really are wide open.” Krieger smirked, running his fingers through the blood dripping down my neck. “I’m a Knight of Hell, Alexis. I was handpicked by Lucifer back in the very beginning of life on this earth. He chose _me_ because I had a knack for turning humans into demons very, very quickly. You see, I discovered that every human is born with a natural moral compass. There are things humans instinctively see as _right_ and _good_ and there are equally things they see as _wrong_ and _bad._ Experiences can alter those perceptions but every human – hell, every creature – starts their existence with that fundamental understanding.”

     Krieger brought his bloody fingertips up to his mouth and sucked on them, gaze sharpening with dark pleasure. He licked them clean and brought them back to my neck, ignoring my flinch away from him. He shoved them deeply into the cut. “Demons are created when the humanity is stripped from a soul. And everyone is brought into existence with that natural default switch of _morals_. If you can find that one thing that pushes a human to act completely against their natural moral compass, you have the key to their destruction. They will turn on themselves, destroying their own humanity from the inside out. Dean, here, he’s an interesting case. I heard stories about him even before I got topside. He was known as the Righteous Man for decades down there. But see, Alistair broke him. Alistair found the one thing so against Dean Winchester’s moral compass that he turned against everything he believed in. He lost himself so completely that he, the great _hero_ Dean Winchester, got off the rack and started torturing other human souls of his own free will. Do you know what that one thing was?”  

     Krieger’s eyes lit with a maniacal glee. “Alistair made Dean kill his brother. Over. And over. And over. Endlessly. Day after day, year after year, decade after decade. Until one day, Dean believed Alistair’s mirage was real, that he had actually slaughtered his brother in cold blood. That moment, that realization that he had done something so _depraved_ and beyond redemption was what broke Dean Winchester.”

      Silence rang out around the room and I could feel Dean’s heartbreak and desolation as his secrets were laid bare.

      “And now,” Krieger continued, bringing his fingers away from my neck and painting my lips with blood as his tone hardened, “because you didn’t choose when I told you to, you’re about to watch it happen all over again. And this time? It’s all _real_.”

     Dean’s cry of anguish shook the entire building. Krieger pressed a vicious kiss against my bloody mouth before suddenly dropping to his knees, head thrown back and black smoke pouring from his body. Dean’s torment was abruptly cut off from our link, and I jerked in my chains to see Dean suddenly straighten to his full height, no signs of pain or hesitation. He looked up at me and his gorgeous green eyes blinked to full black and he flashed me a cunningly cold smile.

     … _Dean?_

     The reply came swiftly in Krieger’s rasping tone. _Dean_ _’_ _s not home right now, please leave a message._

     Horror flooded me as Dean flashed a knowing smirk my direction and one of the other demons came and let him out of his restraints, handing him a knife. He grabbed it and started toward Bobby and Sam, both of whom were desperately trying to fight their way free of the demons. Panic blazed through me as I saw the demons pack in tightly around them, not letting them retreat from Dean’s relentless approach. I started sawing my wrists in their chains, desperate to bleed faster, frantic to slide my hands free.

     Sam stopped trying to find a way out and the demons’ anticipation started to build into a frenzy. Sam threw his hands up, palms outward toward his brother. “Dean—it’s me. It’s Sam. Force that fucker out of you, Dean. Come on, man. Dean!”

     I dove into his mind but Krieger had him blocked and all I could feel was Krieger’s dark thirst for blood. Still I tried to force my way deeper, tried to reach Dean desperately. _Dean! He_ _’_ _s going to kill Sam! PUSH HIM OUT!_

     Dean kept stalking forward, flipping the knife from one hand to the other. “I’m going to enjoy this, Sammy.”

     “Dean!” I screamed, terror mounting.

     “Damn it, boy! Push that black-eyed bastard out of you!” Bobby cried, hurling himself in front of Sam and throwing a swing at Dean.

     Dean didn’t hesitate, just flicked his fingers and Bobby went sailing across the room, crashing to the floor heavily.

     I clawed my presence deeper into his mind, frantic to find him, trying to pour my strength into Dean but Krieger just batted my attempts out of the way. “Dean, listen to me! Together we can be strong enough! Together we can—”

     The knife sank deeply into Sam’s chest with an audible grind against his bones. Dean leaned in, driving the blade in deeper and tearing it down jaggedly through Sam’s torso.

     Gut-wrenching horror stopped my heart. Sam stared at Dean in shock, his hands still held up in plea. Dean gave him his trademark smirk as he jerked the knife grindingly out of Sam’s chest and gave him a little shove. Sam stumbled backwards, slamming full force into the dusty floor. A sucking gurgle came from his chest and Bobby roared, throwing himself at Dean. Dean rolled his eyes and flicked his fingers again, slamming Bobby against the wall hard enough that I heard several bones snap before the older man crumpled unconscious to the floor.

     Dean turned to me with a victorious light in his eyes, shirt torn open, blood dripping from the cut through the anti-possession tattoo on his chest. “You want him back? You can have him now, but just for a minute.” Dean’s features shifted and I could see when Krieger gave him back control of his body.

     Dean, my Dean, collapsed to the ground with a shattering wail, his hands clenching his hair helplessly. “ _No!_ Sammy, you _can_ _’_ _t_ … This isn’t -- I was trying so hard, and I couldn’t even –” A desperate sob tore from him. “ _Sam!_ _”_ He struggled to pull him into his arms, clutching Sam tightly, agony in every line of his hunched form as his choked weeping filled the silent room. Until it was abruptly cut off.

     Dean’s head suddenly snapped back toward me and it was Krieger’s eyes staring at me gleefully. “See how this little game works? Let’s try again. I’ll make it easier this time -- you only have to choose who gets to _torture_ your precious Dean or if we have him do it to himself.”

     A scream tore from the bottom of my soul. I heaved myself up with all my strength and let all of my body weight drop to one side over and over until my wrist cracked loudly and my skin sloughed off against the rusted chains. They finally released their clenching grip and I dropped to the floor in a heap. As soon as I hit the ground I launched myself at Dean, slamming into him and knocking Sam free, taking us both to the floor. I grabbed his head with both hands and clawed my way into his mind, beyond thought, beyond plans, pure horror and fury driving my actions. I straddled his chest and slammed his head back into the floor as those beloved green eyes stared up at me with all-consuming hatred. His hands grabbed at my thighs as he bucked but I forced a wave of pain into his head and watched as those eyes rolled whitely back in his skull. Furious heartbroken tears poured down my face and I snarled down at him.

     “You can’t have them! Not any of them!” I slammed his head down again, pressing my eyes closed at the heavy crack. Agony rolled through me for the pain I was causing him, tearing through my entire body until I vibrated with it. A hot wave of power suddenly rushed through my veins and I feverishly sent wave after wave of pain into his mind to try and corral the powerful demon. If I could just corner him, separate him from Dean, we could force him out—force him into a body I could kill. I could feel his power blazing through Dean’s body, hiding him from me. If only I could—

      A deafening thunder suddenly cracked through the air and bright white light sent a percussive blast across the room. All of the demons were knocked to the ground as Castiel appeared with several angels at his side, furious power emanating and their angel blades in hand. The sounds of battle rose in a cacophonous rumble all around me but I was consumed with trying to contain Krieger.

     Cas was suddenly pulling at me, trying to tear me away. “No!” I shrieked, clutching desperately to Dean.

     “You have to end this, Alexis!” Cas barked to be heard over the sound of fighting.

     “I can’t! Dean’s in there, I have to force Krieger out!”

     “Krieger won’t come willingly,” Cas snapped. “You know he’ll destroy the body before he allows Dean to survive. There’s nothing you can do!” His eyes hardened into a warrior’s stare. “It’s already over.”

     “No!” I screamed. “I have to save him! We can’t let them win – _I have to save him_!” My concentration broke for a precious second and Dean grabbed a hold of my wrists and wrenched the broken one, thrashing free and throwing me into the nearest wall. He was on his feet in an instant and attacking Cas for the angel blade. Cas bellowed and panic obliterated all thought.

     “Cas! _No!_ ” I dove toward them both, wrapping my arms around Dean’s waist and tackling him back to the ground. “Don’t kill him, Cas! Dean’s still there -- you can’t kill him!”

     Dean thrashed in my grip but I fought him desperately. Every inch of me was pressed along his back even as he flailed and bucked to knock me loose. Desperation roared through me and I slammed myself back into his mind one last time. I forced past Krieger’s presence and imbedded myself into Dean’s very soul, the soul we shared together, focusing all my intensity on healing him. My Chinuitor power suddenly flared to full strength, and light and heat burst explosively into my cells. I could feel it burning through me, far stronger than it had ever been before and I funneled every bit of it into Dean’s broken body. I connected to him so deeply I wasn’t sure I would be able to find my way back out again and still I poured myself into him. Distantly I was aware of him throwing himself backwards and knocking my body into the wall. Cas was still bellowing and I was terrified he would annihilate us both to contain the risk. That fear pushed me beyond my final reserve, allowing my power to fully consume Dean's mind and body. He started to shake and vibrate, stumbling sideways and nearly unseating my grip on him before slamming us both into another wall. His heartbeat skipped and started racing, pounding faster and faster beneath my clutching hold. I screamed into his mind with one last desperate attempt.

_Come back to me!_

His presence built, growing stronger and stronger as my energy pounded into his body, healing its damage and fractures, bringing him back to full strength. I grabbed hold of Dean’s presence and together we turned toward that dark essence that was possessing him. Krieger suddenly frantically fought to find a way out. Dean froze mid-thrash with me still clinging to his back and roared, black demon smoke gusting out of his mouth at last. Krieger’s cloud rolled desperately upward but Castiel suddenly shouted in Enochian and a brilliant percussive blast of white angel light flew out and vaporized the black demon smoke.

     My full power coursing through Dean was suddenly too much, too strong for his human body and it started blazing through his cells dangerously. I frantically started pulling it in, struggling to wrench my presence back from his while fighting to keep our soul intact. His presence suddenly turned to me just as I was about to fully separate us and everything suspended, pausing the world around us. Outside this moment there was only death and destruction, but for this moment, this one single moment there was completion. There was _peace._ He was there inside my darkness and I was inside his, but somehow between the two of us that darkness shifted to light. There was redemption for all our past mistakes and unending comfort for our pain. The brilliance of our love burned far more brightly than I ever could have imagined and I understood at last what it felt like to be _home._ His presence reached out and touched our shared soul and I knew with utter certainty that nothing would ever be the same. We were two halves of one whole and no matter what distance was between us, we would always be _one._ Our moment passed as all moments do, and I finished withdrawing gently. My consciousness snapped back into my own mind with a painful jolt.

     Staccato bursts of angel light flared around the room until the last demon was destroyed.

     The room fell still.

     Dean collapsed beneath me and I tumbled off his back. Slowly, dazedly, I lifted my head. There were bodies everywhere. The dozen empty vessels, Krieger’s empty corpse, Bobby unconscious against the wall, and Sam—

     Oh god. _Sam._

     My throat tightened and suddenly there wasn’t enough air. “…Sam?” There was a pool of blood beneath him and his entire body was slumped motionlessly where it had fallen. I moved to his side, my heart starting to pound when he still didn't move. “Sam, get up. We got him. We got Krieger and everything is going to be fine now, so it’s time to get up.” My tone hardened and I shook him. “I need you to get up, Sam. _Get up!_ ” My breath caught high in my throat and I waited for some movement, waited for him to groan about Dean owing him a big one.

     But he didn’t.

     Tears fell uselessly down my face as I gently turned him to his back, moving up to press my fingers against his cheek. “Come on, Sam. You’re fine. You hear me? You’re going to be just fine.” I sent my power reaching inside him, searching for something, _anything_. He couldn’t die. We killed Krieger, damn it, and this was all over now. We were going back to Bobby's to celebrate and Sam was damn well going to be there--

     “ _Sammy!_

     Oh god. Dean’s hoarse cry sent anguish ripping through me. He staggered to my side, collapsing down to his knees, hands hovering helplessly. “No, Sam – no, Sammy, not like this. You can’t leave me like this!” He hauled him up, bracing his hands on either side of Sam’s slack face, watching anxiously as if waiting for Sam’s eyelids to open. “ _No_. You’re stronger than this -- you can’t be dead. I didn’t kill you, it’s not real. _This is not real._ Wake up, goddamn it!” Dean pulled him into his shoulder and a single horrified tear slid down his cheek as he turned to me desperately. “Bring him back, Alex – bring him back like you brought me back, baby. I need him. _I need my brother_.”

     A sob burst out of me as I pressed my hands tightly to Sam’s wound, his blood quickly coating my skin. I sent my power deeper inside him and panic sucked me under. His heart was decimated. Krieger hadn’t just punctured it, he had annihilated the entire organ. I tried to pull the pieces together, tried to pump blood back into his veins but his body rejected my interference. The blood flooded his gaping wound, spilling out onto Dean and I. Dean let out a rending moan. Tears tore down my face as my head dropped, hands tightening on Sam. Small, I just had to start small. That was it. I could do this.

     Hollowness consumed me as I knit his skin back together, too afraid to hope. I healed the small nicks and gouges from fighting with the demons. I healed his broken knuckles and even the bruises that had just barely begun to form. I refused to acknowledge his cold skin or the utter stillness of his body. He was fine. He was going to be fine. I pressed my eyes tightly closed and I sent my power into him, far more than I ever would have risked before. But Dean had been able to handle it, he had been able to handle even more. And Sam … Sam wasn’t complaining. Until Sam was fighting me back and pushing me out I was going to keep trying, damn it. I sealed the wound on his chest from the outside in, healing the tendons, restoring the muscles that had been torn apart. I moved onto the lungs, painstakingly removing all the blood that had spilled where it didn’t belong.

And then, despairingly, I turned back to his heart. The piece that kept him always moving forward, the piece that kept him fighting darkness at our side, was just … destroyed. There was no heartbeat, no blood pumping through his veins. Soundless tears poured down my face. He was gone. Sam was _dead_.

     Bobby’s voice echoed through my mind. _The legends_ _say Chinuitor can bring the dead back to life._

I could do this. I had to do this. I went down deep inside myself until my heartbeat filled my ears. The rhythm beat methodically inside me, centering my focus and pulling the fractured edges of my sanity together for this one final attempt. Somehow, I knew exactly what his heart consisted of, the veins, the arteries, the rhythm Sam needed for his massive frame. So I built it. Tissue and matter and cells, I meticulously created the heart that Sam needed to come back to us.

     But it wasn’t until he sucked in a gasping breath that I truly believed he would.     

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think we all deserve a good stiff drink as we catch our breath. Anyone care to join me?
> 
> *A special thanks to infinity_dreamchaser and cherrishish for your unfailing support and belief in me! I never could have written this chapter without you!*


	45. Hope

     “ _Sam!_ ” Those first stuttered heartbeats evened out and Sam sucked in another choked breath, his broad chest rising up beneath my palms. “Come on, Sammy, come on—”

     Sam’s hazel eyes fluttered open and a choked noise escaped from deep inside Dean’s chest. “That’s it, Sammy – I’ve got you. You’re back now--you’re going to be okay.” Dean’s gaze shot to mine, his gratitude overwhelmingly stark in his eyes.  _He's alive! God, Lex, you really brought him back to me--_

    Sam doubled up with a wrenching cough and Dean’s entire focus shifted, his own feelings forgotten. “Alex—” Sam rasped, struggling to catch his breath. “Thank you—” He tucked his hand into my hair and pulled my forehead down to touch his. “Thank you,” he breathed. “The reaper was already here and I couldn’t – I didn’t want to -- I don’t know what you did or how you did it but _thank you_.”

     I curled my shaking hands into the collar of his shirt, too weak to fight back the tears dripping down my face. “You didn’t think I’d let you go that easy, did you?”

     He managed a smile, his hand gently squeezing the back of my head.

     My grip tightened. “… You scared me, Sam.”

     Emotion flared in his eyes and his thumb stroked my hair tenderly. “I know. I thought – ” His gaze cut to Dean as he released me and Dean moved in to embrace him roughly. Relief buried my senses as I watched them cling to each other for a long moment.

     Sam finally released him and leaned forward with a groan. “All I know is that I can officially say having my chest torn apart by my brother is _not_ my favorite way to go.”

     “Fucking Winchesters,” I muttered, running a hand down my wet cheeks. “Only you two would have a _favorite_ way to die.”

     Dean settled back on his heels, watching worriedly in silence as Sam slowly got his feet beneath him and stretched to his full height with a deep moan. “What happened? Did we get that fucker?”

     Satisfaction swept the last of Dean's worry from his eyes as he followed him up. “You bet your ass we did. You should've seen it when Cas stormed in — ”

     A low groan came from the far side of the room and my heart stopped.

 _Bobby_.

     I lurched to my feet but only made it a few steps before a wave of vertigo dropped my knees out from under me. Nausea rose up but I forced myself back to my feet. _Bobby, I have to get to Bobby_ _—_

     “Enough, Alexis.” Cas said firmly from near Bobby’s prone form. “I will heal him. You have done enough. You need to rest.”

     The room was spinning and my thoughts felt abstract and disjointed but relief eclipsed all else. They were safe. My entire family was safe.

     “Alex, are you all right?” Dean’s concern stretched out to me and the stimulus overwhelmed my overloaded nerves, blinking every thought out of my mind, every thought but one:

_We made it.  
_

     I came awake slowly, tiny details filtering into my awareness. My head was resting on Dean’s shoulder and Sam’s calming presence was sprawled on my other side, our legs pressing closely together. A warm breeze brushed over us and I could feel the heat of the sun sinking into my bones. The tires rolled rhythmically beneath us and Dean hummed softly as he drove. My eyes drifted open and peace settled deep into my soul.  _This_ was home _\--_ tucked between the two of them, driving out on the open road, the nightmare we had survived nothing but a memory in the rearview mirror. It didn’t matter where we were going or what came next. We were together and that was enough.

     “Think you could pick a car with a smaller back seat next time?” Bobby grumbled behind me, his weight shifting on the squeaking leather. “ _Some_ of us have old bones—”

     “Blame Sam,” Dean rumbled quietly. “I tried to split us into two cars so we’d have more room, but _no_ —”

     Sam groaned, stretching his legs out. “Come on, you just wanted to split so you could drive that Speedster they left behind.”

     Dean snorted unapologetically. “And you didn’t?”

     Sam sprawled wider, his knee bumping mine. “We’re all going back to Bobby’s. Makes sense to ride in the same car.” There was a soft note beneath his nonchalance that made my heart clench in understanding. A need had opened up deep inside me, a need to keep them both close, to soothe myself with every breath they took that they weren’t going anywhere. For all Dean’s bluster, he wouldn’t have put up with us being separated any easier than Sam or I. Having them pressing in on either side of me with reassuring physical contact was exactly where I wanted them to stay.

     I shifted, leaning my head against Sam’s shoulder and tucking my hand into his with a squeeze. He was rattled, I could feel it. We all were. We may have made it through the nightmare but it had been close – we had been too damn close to losing everything.

     I knew the dreams would come, waking each of us in the depth of the night, bathing us in a cold sweat of horror at what could have happened, what _did_ happen. But in the midst of that horror we would seek each other out, find reassurance in the small things. The books left open on the kitchen table, the sight of the Impala parked out front, the fully stocked fridge with neatly packaged leftovers – those were the things that would silence the night terrors. And in the light of day, it would be these small moments between the three of us that healed the memories. The look in Sam’s eyes as he watched his older brother, the way Dean sought out Sam’s opinion on all things great and small, the way they orbited around me and enveloped me into their lives without thought – those were the things that completed us, that made us whole.

     I had never fully understood the strength of the bond between them until Dean’s heartbroken plea as Sam lay there, dead in his arms. Dean loved me heart and soul but losing Sam would’ve broken him beyond repair. And Sam – I couldn’t imagine my life without Sam. He was the calm that held us together, the quiet hope that kept us pushing forward. He was my brother and I needed his steady presence grounding me. Even Bobby and Cas had become integral parts of my life. Cas came through when it mattered, had put his life on the line for me in ways I was only just beginning to understand. And Bobby was my anchor, the thing that kept me steadily focused and headed in the right direction.

     I had started this journey determined to keep them all out of my life, certain that they couldn’t be trusted and that I was better off on my own. Now – well, now they were my family. My everything. My protectors, my comfort, my laughter and my tears. They healed a part of me that had always been cold and alone and now I couldn’t fathom a day without them by my side.

     “Hey there,” Dean rumbled, laying his hand on my thigh. “You back with us, baby girl?”

     I slipped my other hand on top of his and laced our fingers, humming tiredly in response.

     “You feeling okay?” Sam rested his head on top of mine and we watched through the windshield as the road rose up to meet us.

     I laughed softly in disbelief. “Me? What about you?” I lifted our handhold up against his chest for a moment so I could feel the reassuring beat of his heart. I let my eyes fall shut and my power ease into him, checking him from his head to his toes, making sure I hadn’t missed anything, hadn’t overlooked any injuries.

     “I can feel you checking on me,” he muttered into my ear quietly enough that Dean couldn’t hear. “You feel … tired.”

     I withdrew from my inspection with a contented sigh and let our hands slide back to his knee. “You’re here and you’re healthy. That’s all that matters.” I let my head drop back against the bench seat and twist enough that I could see Bobby slouched uncomfortably, spread out sideways across the seat. “You ok back there, Bobby?”

     All signs of discomfort eased as he smiled at me. “Hey darlin’. It’s good to see your eyes bright again. You doing okay? Cas was worried.”

     My brow furrowed. “Where _is_ Cas?”

     “He’s going to meet us back at my place. Said he needed to speak with the others, that they had some angel stuff to handle.”

     Everything inside me froze.

 _Angels_.

     Goddamn it, I hadn’t even thought twice about the angels coming to our rescue. But if Cas had stayed back to speak with them, they were probably part of his former garrison. Which meant they were still part of the heavens, the same heavens that currently had a kill order out on me.

     “Easy, Lex. Take a breath,” Dean soothed, rubbing his calloused thumb against my knuckle. “They didn’t give us any trouble when we left. I don’t know who they are but maybe Cas managed to find a handful of angels that were willing to overlook your bloodlines. He had to have, otherwise they would have saved you just to come after you again? I don’t think so.” His voice was determinedly reassuring, not allowing me to even consider any other options.

     The peace that had been slowly gathering inside me drifted away as surely as if it had never been. We had eliminated Krieger, but that wasn’t going to be enough.

     Dean leaned over and pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead. “One day at a time, baby girl. We got Krieger, so I say today is a win.” He kissed me again firmly and his grip on my thigh tightened. “In fact, I think it’s about damn time we got home. It's time to celebrate!” His foot went down hard against the gas pedal and the truck we were in lurched forward with a growl. A boyish grin lit up his features and he let out a whoop as we tore off down the dusty road.

 

     Dean spun the tires as he slid the truck to a stop in front of Bobby’s. He and Sam tumbled out of the vehicle and Bobby followed them stiffly, their voices chasing one after another. I got my feet beneath me slowly and looked at the house with fresh eyes, my heart sitting heavily in my chest. A lot of life had happened within its’ walls. When Cas swept me up out of my cabin in the woods, my only plan had been to find the bad guys before the power overtook me and let my death take as many of them out as possible. There had been nothing to live for, no hope of finding a way through it. And then Grady had appeared and I thought sheer determination could make me last a few more days. But Stokes in all his twisted glory had changed _everything_. Turning me into a Chinuitor should have killed me, should have ended everything right then and there. But instead it made me strong enough to save them, to save my entire family. Every moment of panic and fear and pain had been worth it to protect my family. Saving them far outweighed the cost of what I'd been through.

     I slowly made my way onto the porch, my touch lingering on the railing as I passed. This house held almost every single one of my happy memories. Waking up beside Dean. The boys sliding into the chairs on either side of me when Grady first arrived, their protective presence staking their claim. Dean and Bobby bursting into the basement to rescue me from Stokes. Dean washing away the memories of the panic room from my skin. Sparring in the basement. Stealing those moments upstairs with him where the rest of the world ceased to exist. Watching him cook, his bare feet poking out beneath his sweatpants. Dean's smile of delight when I came down in the dress.

     Around and around the memories swirled and emotion started riding high in my throat. My best memories, my happiest moments had all happened _here_. My life hadn’t really started until the boys burst into my cellar and drew me out of the darkness. Because of them I had found hope, and that hope had made me stronger, had pulled me through more than I ever thought I could handle. That hope had served its purpose and made me strong enough to save them all. Now it was time for me to protect them one last time.

     The angels were coming for me and it was time to meet my fate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gahhhh!!!!!!!
> 
> I really honestly truly was planning on this being the last chapter full of fluff and happiness and resolution. And then Alex had to go and a;dlkfjda;lkfjad;lkja it all up! Damn it! This was not part of my plan! Hope you enjoyed it and I swear this story really is coming to a close.


	46. The Final Chapter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, my dear readers, this is it. The final chapter. We've been through a lot this past year together and because of this story I have found some of my dearest friends in the world. Through hell and high water in my own life Supernatural has been there for me and the SPN family continues to blow my socks off every single day with their support. 
> 
> Those of you who have been with me since the beginning know I wasn't planning on this going over twenty-odd chapters and this was my first attempt to dabble my toes in the world of fanfiction. Obviously, this story and Alex took on a life of their own and swept me along with them on a wild and fantastic ride. I don't have the words to tell you what your reads, kudos and comments have meant to me. It absolutely blows my mind that we are almost to 5,500 views. Just completely amazes me every day when I sign in. You all are amazing. Every writer secretly wishes to have that one little idea that sparks someone's interest, that keeps them hooked on the edge of their seat to see what happens next. This story took off far beyond what I had ever hoped for when I posted that first chapter. Your excitement for new chapters, your heartfelt pain for Alex, and your tears as well as mine through this imaginary adventure brought me through the darkest period of my life. You kept me pushing forward on the days I didn't think I had anything left to give.
> 
> Never underestimate the power of words. Whether you're inspired to create stories of your own, or brave enough to post a comment and tell me what you thought, your words mean the world to me. Thank you for being with me through the darkness and the shadows this year. I don't know if I could've made it without you. My email address is in my profile. Drop me a note. Your words will be the highlight of my night.
> 
> Now, for the end of the story...

     Bobby already had his head tucked into the liquor cabinet when I made it to the living room. He peeked over the cabinet door and raised an eyebrow at Dean. “What are you bringing glasses in here for? You know that’s not how we celebrate in this house.”

     “This time there’s a _lady_ present.” Dean strutted into the room.

     “Aw, listen to him spread that bull!” Sam was quick on Dean’s heels with two bottles of his favorite beer. “He only grabbed glasses because he remembered you still have some good scotch.”

     “I _had_ some good scotch,” Bobby grumbled as he took a hard chug straight from the bottle in his hand, moving over to settle into his well-worn chair with a sigh. “Until your idjit brother drank it all.” He raised an eyebrow as Dean shrugged sheepishly.

     “Now, you know that’s your own fault,” Dean lectured, setting the glasses on the coffee table. “We both know I check that cabinet every time you leave. If you forget to lock it up the same day you put a beautiful bottle front and center on the shelf, well …” He shrugged, eyes lit with mischief. “Besides, I _did_ leave you something in exchange.”

     Bobby could hardly contain his outrage. “That was my _good_ scotch, Dean -- you left me watered-down rotgut!”

     Dean’s smirk grew. “You just keep chugging down that rotgut then, Bobby, and I’ll be right over here with a nice bottle of scotch I happened to find laying around--”   

     Sam couldn’t contain his laughter as Bobby lurched out of his chair to wrestle Dean carefully for the bottle and argue over who got the first glass. Bobby won but did eventually pour Dean the second glass begrudgingly.

     I stayed in the doorway, watching my warriors. I had never seen them like this, never all at once. Comfortable. Teasing. Soaking in the relief that we were all together, all alive. There was a hunger deep inside me craving a thousand more moments like this one. There was love in this room, love born of respect, strength, and battles waged shoulder to shoulder. These men were heroes -- the kind that legends were made of and stories were long told about. They were _my_ heroes, and I needed to prove that I had been worth their many sacrifices.

     I was pulled from my thoughts as Dean swaggered over to me and pressed a light scotch-flavored kiss to my lips. “Hey there, baby girl.” His soft endearment melted my determination to stay strong. I reached out to run my thumb against his scruff-covered jawline, aching for the future we could have made together. “Lex? What’s got you looking so serious?” He pulled back enough he could look into my eyes, and his deep green gaze swept me under.

     I loved this man. His strength had seen him through far more battles than I could ever imagine, and his fearless spirit told me there would be many more to come. But I wasn’t going to be there to put him back together next time, wouldn’t be there to take the pain away--

     Shoving down my thoughts, I pulled him back in for a deep kiss. I threw reserve to the wind, my mouth opening eagerly beneath his as a needy sound escaped my throat. My nails dug into his skin as I pulled him in closer against me. His body gave an interested twitch and he made a happy noise, setting his glass down on the nearest surface so he could bury his hands in my hair. We were a wreck, still covered in dried blood and my entire body still sluggish from Krieger’s beating. But all I could feel was his touch -- the press of his warm body against mine, his smooth skin beneath my fingertips.

     Dean’s hand tightened in my hair and his other hand dropped to the side of my neck, guiding the angle of the kiss as he took control. He deepened the kiss greedily and my entire body lit up. I needed him. I needed to feel the press of his skin against mine, feel the reassuring beat of his heart as he loomed over me. I needed to press kisses to every single place where Krieger had caused pain. I needed to watch his eyes come alive as I replaced the memory of that pain with pleasure, make him forget the horror we had survived by driving everything out of his mind but the sensation of my skin against his. But there was no time. There was never enough time.

     Dean pulled back suddenly, his eyes shadowed. “Lex?”

 _Damn_ _it_. My thoughts were bleeding into the link despite my best efforts. I felt robbed of these last few precious moments of his happiness. “I love you,” I stared into his green gaze fiercely.

     His hold on me tightened. “I know. Lexi, what’s wrong?”

     I traced his face with my fingertips, soaking in his features. There was no way to do this, no way to say goodbye. Words could never be enough. We had shared one stunningly perfect moment in the midst of a brutal battle, and that moment had shown us both the depth of what we shared in a way that words could never hope to express. Dean completed me. He was my hope, my happiness, my everything. I would go through every single moment of pain and agony again if it meant that I could have a future with him. Knowing what was about to happen, and fully aware of the devastation I was leaving him to suffer alone, stole any words I might’ve tried to speak. Anything I said now would only deepen the wound of my absence.

     Reluctantly, feeling like my heart was tearing out of my chest, I pulled away from him. My time was rapidly running out. There were so many things they needed to hear, ways I wanted to take care of them before I was gone— Determination settled in my gut and I turned to Bobby. I may not have time for everything I needed to say but there was one thing I could do to help all three of them draw closer together after I was gone. Together, they would manage. They had before, they would again. 

     Bobby was cradling his glass of scotch contentedly, relief and pride mixing in his eyes as he watched over the three of us. For the first time I noticed how many of his mannerisms the boys mimicked. He and Sam were sprawled in the exact same position, a drink in their right hands and their left hands resting high on their thighs. Bobby raised his glass to his mouth, hiding a curling smile that I had seen on Dean’s face more than once. John Winchester may be their biological father, but Bobby’s presence in their lives had been significant and his influence was an obvious part of the men Sam and Dean had become. Emotion rose high in my throat and I could feel Dean’s concern rapidly shifting to alarm as he tried to reach me through our link.

 _Lex, what_ _’_ _s wrong? Everyone is safe_ _—_ _why are you pulling back from me? Lex, talk to--_

     I spoke, pushing past his intrusion in my mind. “Bobby. I need to tell you something.”

     Bobby didn’t move, but every inch of him tensed and his gaze shot to mine.

     I moved to his side, struggling to find the right words. “I’ve watched the three of you together since the moment Cas brought me here, and I know… I know what’s inside each of you. I’ve felt the emotions that you all three try and shove down deep. You may be grown men but you all suck at talking, and there are certain things that you deserve to hear, Bobby, but the boys will never tell you.” I let out a hard breath.

Bobby let out a noncommittal grunt, his gaze wary.

     “Sam and Dean … they both look up to you. They rely on you, they know no matter what shitstorm has happened that you will always be there for them. You’re the steady rock that keeps them anchored. They both think of you as … home _._ ” My natural reserve when it came to touching people suddenly seemed so pointless and I found myself pressing closer to him, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder. “They see the parts of you that you never see in yourself -- the steadiness, the determination, the gutsiness that never falters. You are a great man, Bobby Singer, and that’s how we _all_ see you. Without you, they never would have become heroes. Without you, we would all be lost.”

     His hand slipped over top of mine with a tight grip, but the wariness in his eyes deepened. “Why are you saying all this, darlin’?”

     I pushed past the growing lump in my throat. “I love you, you old coot. I’ve never been prouder than the moment you called me your daughter.”

     Far from misty eyed, his expression narrowed sharply. “Care to share why it sounds suspiciously like you’re saying goodbye?”

     Instead of answering his question, I turned to Sam while trying to block out Dean’s escalating frustration growling in my mind. Sam saw my focus shift and got to his feet apprehensively. “And Sam—” As soon as I said his name my throat constricted. I fought to find the words and realized that words were empty. After what we had been through today, they would never be enough. I gave in and just walked across the room, wrapping my arms around his waist and tucking my face against his chest. “You’re going to be fine,” I choked fiercely, pressing my face tighter against him so that I could feel the reassuring beat of his heart. The heart that kept his blood flowing, kept his soul shining, and kept his eyes bright with purpose. “You and Dean -- you’re going to be fine now. You’ll be strong enough, together. You were fine before me and you’ll both be fine again--”

     Sam set his bottle down loudly and pulled back from me, shocked. “What do you mean, again?” His gaze shot to Dean for reassurance and Dean’s attempts to reach me through our link redoubled.

     I struggled to keep him out for just a few more moments. “Sam, please – I never wanted this. I wish it could all be different, but we’re almost out of time. I need you to promise you’ll stay with him. I never wanted to come between you both and he’s going to need you, Sam—”

     “No!” The word burst from Sam explosively and his eyes were full of betrayal. “How could you even think about –” He stopped, forcing himself to take a breath but the hurt didn’t leave his eyes. “No, I’m not going to stand here and listen to this. You can’t leave, not now. Your home is here, Alex, with us. With _all_ of us--”

 _Damn it, Lex, no!_ Dean bellowed into my mind so loudly that it blocked everything out and he grabbed a hold of my arms. His jaw firmed and his next words were spoken aloud in a flinty rasp. “Come on, Lex – there’s no reason you have to leave! We got that son of a bitch and I promise we will hunt down each and every one of his nests, together. But it can wait. Everyone is home safe. Everything you need is here, with us. This whole nightmare is behind us, it’s _over_ , you understand me? Why would you even —” He shoved his hands through his hair helplessly. “Damn it! Why are you feeling so _hopeless_?!”

     The flutter of wings was his answer and I turned resignedly to face Cas. His icy blue eyes were pained and full of things unspoken, his fists clenched at his sides.

     I sighed softly. “How much longer do I have?”

     Dean let out an explosive breath. “ _That_ _’_ _s_ what has you so worried? _Angels_? _”_ Dean gripped the back of his neck with both hands, muscles bunching in frustration. “Damn it, Cas, tell her. Just explain whatever it was you had to do to convince the angels to help us. Tell her that she’s not in any danger. She’s about to lose her fucking mind!”

     Cas held my gaze for a long moment. “They are only a few moments behind me,” he answered quietly.

     Dean’s voice went deadly calm. “Cas, tell her. We got Krieger. It’s over. I hold her Asuat now, we’ll take care of Krieger’s nests and hunt them all down soon enough. But right now? She has nothing to be afraid of. The worst of it is over, she’s _safe_ now. _Tell her, Cas._ ”

     The angel’s gaze filled with dread as utter stillness filled the room. “…I tried, Dean. I tried to reason with them, but—”

     Bobby painstakingly set his glass to the side and got to his feet. “Cas. It’s been a hell of a day and Dean can’t handle a misunderstanding when it comes to Alex’s safety right now. So let’s clear this up. See, he’s hearing you say that you led angels directly to her _that want to kill her_. He’s also hearing that they’re just a few minutes behind you. Now, I know those things can’t be true, because those angels just saved our asses. So, try and explain _clearly_ what is going on.”

     Cas swallowed hard and his gaze skipped around the room. “They owed me a favor.”

     “Who did, Cas?” Bobby’s thin veneer of patience was rapidly disappearing.

     “My garrison, or at least the five angels that remain. They owed me a favor and I collected that favor to wipe out Krieger and save all of you.”

     Sam’s gaze narrowed. “Fine. Okay. We get that. Then you’re square, right? They helped you out, they don’t owe you anymore. They can scurry back to heaven.”

     Cas’s gaze was pained. “It’s not that simple, Sam.”

     “ _Simplify it._ ” Dean barked coldly.

     Cas took a steadying breath, his gaze dropping to the floor. “She’s a Nephilim, Dean. You know they won’t allow—”

     “Don’t even think it, Cas! They aren’t getting anywhere near her, you understand me?!” Dean bristled with fury.

     “That doesn’t make sense,” Sam cut in, trying to calm the rising tension. “If they want her dead, why would they help--”  
     “--Stop it, Dean!” Cas suddenly snapped, his shoulders squaring as his gaze sharpened. “Do you really think that threatening the angels with your prayers is going to help the situation?! It will only make their justice more swift!” The murderous look in Dean’s eyes didn’t ease and Cas just glared back at him. “I have done everything within my power, Dean. I have certain … arrangements … that protect you. That protect all three of you. I have made deals and done things I am not proud of since turning my back on heaven to aid you, but they were _necessary_. It is because of those deals that you all stand before me today. I was and am a fierce warrior but I can only hold back the heavens for so long. My former garrison and I had an arrangement for today – they helped me wipe out that nest and remove Krieger from existence. We didn’t just kill him, we stripped him of his power and influence over all of his hordes. He was a Knight of Hell, Dean – it took far more power than my grace alone could achieve to obliterate him the way that we did. He had erected protective warding over every one of his nests and used magic I have never seen in my lifetime to protect himself. It took all six of us working together to deconstruct his spells and incinerate what was left of his soul. We had to remove any possibility of his return in any form. I could not allow the risk of him coming back for vengeance. Despite you – all three of you – surviving against insurmountable odds thus far, you _are_ only human, Dean. The risks were too great.”

     “Fine, they saved us all! I’m not arguing! Just tell Alex that she’s fucking safe!”

     Cas straightened and I could feel his power flare to life. “There are limits to the protection I have in place over Alex. We reached those limits today, Dean --”

     “So what then?!” Dean thrust his jaw out. “It’s five angels. We can take them on, can’t we? Bobby, where are the angel blades? We can tear them apart—”

     “They will only send more,” Cas stated quietly.

     “Then we’ll take on those bastards, too! They can’t have her, Cas!”

     “And then what, Dean? She’s a _Nephilim_. And a Chinuitor! They will be able to find her anywhere. The warding I used before kept failing which is why I had to kill so many of my brothers to keep her protected. This is a battle we cannot win, Dean—”

      “ _They can_ _’_ _t have her, Cas!_ ” Dean bellowed.

     “What are you going to do? Watch over your shoulder every moment of every day knowing that the garrisons of the heavens are always one step behind you? You cannot fight them all, Dean!”

     “I can damn well try!”

     “I fought for you today – I fought for your life and the lives of those you love most in this world! I fought and I _won_. Do not disregard my sacrifice for you!” Cas’s power blasted out and knocked us all back a step, blowing out the windows. His eyes were lit with a righteous fury that blazed bright, the air crackling with energy. “Without me you all would have died in that room and Krieger would be roaming free!”

     “Goddamn it, Cas, _I know_!” Dean’s hands were buried in his hair, his eyes tormented. “Don’t you think I realize that?! We almost lost it all – everything we’ve fought so hard for and all those people we fight to protect – don’t you think I realize we almost lost _everything_ today? Sam was dead in my arms, Cas! _Dead!_ But I – I got him back, Cas. She brought him back to me and this was all supposed to be over now. I know what loss feels like, goddamn it, and _I can_ _’_ _t lose her_. Not like that, Cas! Don’t make me go through that again!”

     Cas’s fury swirled around us angrily. “You can’t have it all, Dean. Sometimes you have to _choose._ I chose to save you and Sam and Bobby. The angels won’t kill her. They can’t. Our agreement ensures that you cannot be killed and because of your soul link, her life force is protected. But they will take her away and imprison her. Far from here. You will never see her again, but she will be _alive._ ”

     The sound ripped from Dean’s chest was painful to listen to. “ _No!_ I can’t – I could never … She’s part of me. She’s part of me, Cas, and you can’t ask me to live like that. You can’t ask me to never see her again. That’s not enough, Cas. That would never be enough. I can’t live without her. I _can_ _’_ _t_.”

     Something shifted in Cas’s eyes and the power emanating off him suddenly shifted, changing the charge in the room to the muted pressure of a storm rolling in. Even the air had a damp heat to it. There was so much emotion in his eyes for a moment that my heart broke, even before I deciphered that it was grief.

     “There’s … there’s one more option. But the cost is steep, Dean, and once I do this you will never be able to take it back.”

     “Anything,” Dean said fervently. “Whatever it is, I’ll do it.”

     “No!” I snapped, suddenly finding my voice. “Cas, _no_. Whatever it is, this family has been through enough. They have paid enough for the darkness I have brought into their lives. No more, Cas.” I swung around to face Dean and was gutted by the plea in his eyes. “ _No more_.”

     “We’re not giving up on you, Alex.” Sam stated firmly and Bobby jerked his head in agreement. “Whatever it is, we’ll handle it.”

     The frantic wildness in Dean’s eyes settled as he pulled in a choppy breath. “Lex, if there’s a way, we’re taking it. You’ve been through enough, baby girl. I’m not letting those bastards tear us apart.”

     Cas’s brow furrowed and his grief thickened. “I … this won’t be easy on either of you. And things will never be the way they were before.”

     “Right, because it’s been all sunshine and lollipops for them so far?” Sam scoffed. “This whole thing has been a clusterfuck from the beginning. It’s time to finish all this, Cas. They need each other. We’ll figure out the rest.”

     “What is the cost, Cas?” I asked thickly, foreboding rising the hairs on the back of my neck.

     Cas’s gaze didn’t come off of Dean and the look in his eyes gave me a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. Slowly, a trickle of words left him that turned my premonition into certainty. “It’s been an honor serving with you. You found your soul mate, Dean, and that’s all I’ve ever hoped for you. I wish you the best.”

     A rush of air and feathers swept through the room before Dean could respond. Five armed angels appeared in the doorway to the kitchen, the combined force of their restrained power sending everyone’s tension skyrocketing.

     “Cas, you got this?” Dean’s fists clenched at his sides but the trust in his eyes gutted me. How was he missing that Cas was saying goodbye?

     Cas reached out and grabbed my shoulder and everything disappeared around us.

 

      The air was fresh and clean, with a brisk edge this high in the mountains. We landed on a grassy slope covered in wildflowers, the ground dropping off nearby into a deep valley. I barely had a moment to suck in a breath before Cas turned to me fiercely. “Hurry, we don’t have much time.”

     I dodged the hands he stretched toward me. “Wait, Cas, _wait!_ What the hell is going on? What are you going to do?”

     His brow furrowed. “I’m going to hide you from the angels.”

     “How? You said you tried before and the warding wouldn’t hold!”

     His jaw clenched, the bright blue of his eyes intent. “I don’t have time to explain, Alexis. The angels can track my location at all times, they won’t be far behind me. I need to finish this so I can lead them away from you.”

     I avoided his touch again. “No, Cas, _wait_! Tell me what you’re going to do to me!”

     He glared at me. “I’m going to try and hide you. From _everything_. With Dean holding your Asuat and the warding I’m about to place on your body, you have a chance – only a _chance --_ that you might be able to exist under the radar of all things supernatural.”

     “Why didn’t we do this before, Cas?” I pulled back even farther from him warily. If there was a way to do this, why the fuck hadn’t he done it the first day he brought me back to Bobby’s?!

     Cas’s expression shuttered. “It’s dangerous for us both, and the repercussions go far beyond what you could understand. But it’s the only option that we have left. I put Enochian sigils on both Sam and Dean a long time ago so that they would stay hidden from the angels. Though if they stay around Bobby or the salvage yard, the warding is useless. If you’re careful, the three of you can be together after this. It won’t be easy, Alexis,” he warned harshly, “you will have to be ever vigilant for danger. And it won’t be safe to ever go back to Bobby’s. _Ever_ , you understand me? The angels will keep him under constant watch. You might never see him again.”

     “But if we’re careful, we can do it? As long as we stay away from angels?”

     He nodded sharply.

     Then we would figure it out. We would find a way. “Cas, tell me the fucking truth – how dangerous is it for you to do this?”

     His voice was harsh. “It doesn’t matter. It’s the only chance for you and Dean to be together.”

     “But Cas, you can’t just—” My thoughts were spinning too wildly to avoid his lurch toward me and the hands he placed on my ribs. A ripping, searing pain flashed whitely for an endless moment, dropping me to my knees. A terrible cry was torn from deep within Cas, sending chills down my spine. He stumbled back from me and we both dropped limply into the tall grass, side by side.

     “They – they will not be able to track you any longer.” His voice was guttural, his face pale and shockingly gaunt, his eyes drawn in lingering pain. “Enochian warding is etched on your ribs and my grace has been woven into a shield around you … like a second skin. It will distort your appearance to all who seek to do you harm. It will be enough to protect you. It _has_ to be enough. ”

     I reached out, grabbing his hand tightly in the grass. “Cas?”

     His blue eyes slowly met mine and the unfathomable sorrow in them sank deeply into my core.

     “Cas, why?” I whispered miserably. “You’re weakened now, you need your grace—and the angels will be angry, they’ll be coming after you for saving me--”

     He let out a hard breath and gently squeezed my hand. “For your safety, and to protect Sam and Dean … it is best if I never see any of you again. It would only lead the angels to your location and all of this would be for naught. I was being selfish, before. I did not want to turn you over to them but I wasn’t ready to give up – to give up my family. They have become _my_ family too, Alexis.” His eyes reddened and I felt gutted. “I have been with Sam and Dean for a long time, and the thought of never seeing any of you again –” Cas stopped for a moment and the only sound around us was the breeze rustling down the hillside.

     He cleared his throat and continued, his features drawn. “I was being selfish. They need you far more than they need me. You will be there to heal them and protect them, now. You bring happiness to them both and I’m ashamed that I ever thought I could accept your absence from their lives. Dean was right, you complete him and he would not survive without you. His love and recklessness would ensure that his mourning your absence would ultimately result in his death. I cannot stand aside and watch him be so utterly destroyed. My happiness is a small price to pay for you all to be together. I will be … near. I will do my best to lead the angels astray from your path, but you will not see me again.”

     I threw my arms around him and clung tightly, his cream trench-coat bunching in my fingers. “We’ll find a way, Cas. We’ll find a way to bring you home again. Our family isn’t complete without you.”

     He held me just as desperately for a long moment. “I… love you all. Make sure they know,” he whispered. And then he was gone.

     A breeze swept softly around me, rustling through the tall grass and wildflowers as the sun gently warmed my tear stained face. Just like that, he was gone. But I would find a way to bring him back. I would find a way for us all to be together. We would manage, somehow.

     But first I needed to find my way back to Dean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't quite do it. I couldn't quite manage to put a neat and tidy bow on Alex's story. I am already working on a little epilogue but to me this was the true ending. Life is a journey and no matter how I might've gotten them around the many obstacles, her story never truly would've been done. My two fantastic beta readers cherrishish and WinchesterKarma67 (without whom I never would've made it through this final chapter) both were a bit dismayed with how I ended it so I hope you all aren't too upset with me. Alex will find Dean and they will start their forever together in the epilogue but this way you all can chase your own ending. I hope you enjoyed my story and I promise many more stories to come. The fanfic world has inspired me to no end and I hope it does the same for all of you.
> 
> I'll try and keep this short and sweet (ha!) but I can't finish this without a note to my dear infinity_dreamchaser. You have become one of my dearest friends. I wonder sometimes if God started me on this adventure just so I could meet you. Your enthusiasm, your tears, your many wonderful emails -- all of those things became my anchor this year. Thank you. Thank you for investing yourself in what was only a half baked idea when you found me. You truly inspired me and continue to do so. Shiloh in Alone No Longer was inspired by you, chica. Now it's time to go see where her adventure takes us next.


	47. Epilogue - Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most of you are getting to know me by now and probably laughed a little at the fact that this epilogue has a part one. In my notes on the last chapter, I stated that I was working on a 'little' epilogue that would take us from the mountaintop with Cas to Dean and Lex's future together. I should've known better than to state something so ridiculous -- we all know I'm not capable of writing simple story lines or 'little' anything. The epilogue as a whole is pushing 8,000 words now and I am still not quite finished. You all have been very patient with me, and I decided to break it apart so that I could post this first piece today.
> 
> Today is special to me. It's the one year anniversary of my posting the first chapter of this fic. I know that there are literally hundreds of thousands of fanfic stories out in the great cosmos, and more come into being every day, but this one was far more than that for me. I've mentioned in my notes before that writing this has brought me through a great deal in my personal life and will always have a special place in my heart. So though it may seem silly to break an epilogue up like this, it marks the beginning of the end of a journey for me. 
> 
> Thank you for spending time with my story, and thank you for all being so amazing and supportive throughout this entire year. You've all truly been an inspiration. 
> 
> A super special shout out to my endlessly patient and indulgent beta's for this epilogue who have been there through middle of the night emails and updates, agitated debates over word usage and 'stylistic' grammar choices, and hours and hours of emotional extremes as I wrestle this final bit of the story into being. @WinchesterKarma67, @infinity_dreamchaser, and @cherrishish you are all true friends. Thank you for putting up with me.

     I saw him everywhere at first. I’d catch a glimpse of broad shoulders moving through a crowd, a stubborn cowlick rebelling against a tidy haircut, a purposeful stride that slid effortlessly into a swagger… every time my breath would catch and my heart would start racing. But then I would turn to face them fully and the stride was too stiff, the hair was too dark, or the shoulders hunched in nervousness, and the illusion would shatter leaving me with a resounding feeling of emptiness. In the beginning it would stop me dead in my tracks, leaving me heartsick with disappointment. But as more days passed and the lonely nights stretched longer, I learned to linger near those figures that reminded me of him. Just for that flash of memory, that spark that would send my thoughts tumbling one after another with memories of his smell or his taste, the way he felt wrapped around me. Those moments started to ground me when the hours turned into days.

     Cas had dropped me somewhere in North Carolina initially. My first instinct was to make a beeline for South Dakota, even though I knew that the boys wouldn’t stay at Bobby’s after Cas and I disappeared. I hoped that just being in the same state as their last known location would give me a chance of finding them soon or at least give me enough strength to keep fighting the sick desperation coiling in my gut.

     But after hotwiring a car and hopping on the first highway heading west, it hadn’t taken more than a few hours to realize that that hope had no grounding. I had no cell phone, had never needed the boys’ numbers before let alone had time to memorize them, and I had no way of knowing where they would go. My link with Dean hadn’t stretched across the distance when Krieger had taken him hostage, let alone across the two-thousand miles that now separated us. I was flying blind, and the desolation that filled my mind reminded me that I had been here before. When Cas had taken Bobby and the boys away the first time, I had felt like this -- cast adrift with no anchor and unsettled to my core. Where once I had blamed Cas for abandoning me, now I had to forcibly stop myself from reaching out to the angel. I hadn’t realized how often I sent him little thoughts, short questions or random comments throughout the day until doing so would place us both in danger. He had become not only my protector but a friend through this whole mess and I worried for him now. His involvement in my life had been constant, whether I was aware of it or not, and I missed him already. I missed Bobby and Sam, too, but Dean – I _ached_ for Dean.

     Sometimes I would lay awake at night, hunched uncomfortably across the front seat of whatever car I had stolen last, with my fingers digging into the tattoo over my ribs. I could feel it, the difference in skin texture all around the edges, and I would stare into the darkness, tracing every line and curve within the ink. I would lay there, eyes burning with exhaustion but unable to sleep as my heart raced and a cold sweat broke across my skin at the emptiness that surrounded me.

     I had tried at first, to fill the restless silence with noise, to let the radio blare on whatever station the owner had last listened to. But every song made me think of the long hours I had spent with the boys in the Impala after my rescue, of the way they had groaned and argued about their differing music tastes. The absence of their banter only deepened the ache and I had learned it was easier to just shut off the radio than to try and battle the memories. Not even the link had provided solace, the distance making it stretch and feel like I was shouting into a canyon in my own thoughts. I tried though, relentlessly, desperate to speak to him, to tell him I was all right and make sure he and Sam were sticking together.

     Anxiety built inside me with every hour that passed without any word from them. I had to constantly shut out the fear that whispered through me in unguarded moments that maybe they were dead. Maybe the angels had massacred all of them in retaliation for Cas spiriting me away, their deal with Cas be damned. But the silence became deafening as mile after mile disappeared beneath the tires and I crossed state lines without notice. I had no destination in mind, all I knew was that I was headed _west_. South Dakota was west. The last place I had seen Dean was west. _Bobby_ _’_ _s_ was west. It was a hard thing to swallow that I would never be back there, could never risk driving into that dusty salvage yard again. It had become home to me in a way I could never have imagined and my chest ached for what we had all lost.

     Every night I drove until my vision blurred, only pulling off when the tires would drift along the shoulder against my will. I would find somewhere safe to tuck away, a scrubby stand of trees or a ramshackle barn I could hide the car in, barely stopping long enough to catch a few hours of rest. Dean had shown me how little sleep a person could actually function on and I let his example be my guide. There was an itch beneath my skin, a restlessness that pushed me westward. I had no plan, only the money I managed to pick up along the way, and no idea what I would do once I got there but for now, west was enough.

     That singular focus barely got me through the first three days.

     The day I reached the coast of California had been a dark one. I found myself parking just at the edge of the beachfront, my heart feeling heavy enough to sink me beneath the waves if I waded out far enough. A storm had been drawing closer in my rearview mirror for the past several hours, and there was a damp edge to the wind and a heaviness to the clouds shifting overhead as I dragged myself numbly out of the vehicle. Sharp, stinging raindrops started to fall as I slipped off my shoes and left them on the front seat before making my way to the sand. It wasn’t soft and warm like I thought it would be, it was filled with rocks and broken sea shells. I barely noticed the pain in my feet as I made my way instinctively to the edge of the ocean. The waves were roiling, crashing one after another onto the shore as if the needling raindrops slamming into their surface offended them. I wrapped my arms around my waist as I moved forward woodenly until one of the biting waves raced up to cover my feet and soak the bottoms of my jeans. It was an odd mix of hot and cold water as if the ocean was at war within its depths, mirroring the struggle deep inside my chest to hold onto hope.

     I had made it to the coast. From one edge of the continent to the other. But Dean was just as lost to me now as when I had started the journey. Every muscle in my body ached from his absence, as if the time we had spent together had permanently imprinted him on my core. Every time I woke, my legs searched for his and were left aching when there was nothing but an empty seat. My neck ached constantly for the warm curl of his broad hands, those calloused fingertips running along the sides of my throat. And more than anything, my soul ached to see him standing in front of me once again.

     I could never have prepared myself for this, for being separated from the other half of my soul. Just thinking about one more day without him was enough to drop me to my knees. Sharp rocks and broken shells bit into my legs and feet but I couldn’t bring myself to care. The wind swept in around me and the rain started pouring down harder, and I tipped my head back on my shoulders and just let the storm wash over me. It was cleansing, somehow. All of the angry pressure within the storm started coming to fruition above me. The crash of the waves hitting the shore was deafening as the edges of their sloshing ferocity churned against my knees. Sand was kicked up by the wind, blowing furiously against me and scraping my exposed skin raw before continuing to swirl on down the coastline. The stinging pain of pelting sand and rain eased something somehow, as if the storm was matching the turmoil I felt within myself.

     It had only been three days. Seventy-two hours slowly dragging by of emptiness. I couldn’t keep doing this. I couldn’t keep driving mile after mile, hoping somehow I would find them. I was holding tight to my belief that we would be together again. Cas’s sacrifice had to be enough to bring us back together. My being saved from the angels meant _nothing_ if the future Cas had given me couldn’t be spent with Dean and Sam. Together, we could find a way to help Cas, _together_ we could figure out how to protect Bobby and bring us all back together again.

     Only seventy-two hours and I had already filled my pockets with notes and pencil sketches scribbled on napkins, reminders of things I wanted to share with them, of moments I had experienced while we were apart. The brilliant colors of the sunset as I drove through the mountains of North Carolina. The Windmill, a tiny little diner just outside Shamrock, Texas that had apple pie that made my mouth water just at the memory. And lastly, the butterfly that had joined me at a gas station in Brownsville, Tennessee, and stayed perched on the dash until Black Fish, Arkansas. There was something about it, so still and steady beside me, its wings gently moving in the air. Something that calmed the ache inside my chest. It had even held still when I cupped it between my hands as I left one car behind and found another. I hadn’t named it, afraid if I did that it would fly away. But the moment I opened the car door in Black Fish, it had gathered its tiny legs up and swept past me into the dry summer heat and the loneliness settled back in with a vengeance. But for a short while, it had shared its peace with me, and _that_ was what I wanted to try and share with Dean.

     Each story was insignificant on its own, but I had scrawled them down and drawn rough sketches when my brain was too tired to string words together. The edges were starting to shred because of how often I took them out just to hold them, to use the tactile sensation to ground myself in the hope that this separation would be short lived, that the silent hours stretching before me were temporary. But I had reached the coast.

     And I was still alone.

     The restless itch that had pushed me hard, relentlessly pressing me toward the west coast simply … disappeared as I knelt in the gritty surf. Gone as if the waves and pouring rain had washed it away. The emptiness was eerily familiar, the blankness that had started creeping in was a feeling I had grown well accustomed to in that cellar. God, it felt like years ago. There had been so much—Dean had brought me through so much since then and our whole family had healed so many wounds inside me. I wasn’t the same person they had rescued, perpetually buried in the darkness. That realization steadied me, creating a resolve that settled in my gut. I refused to drop back into that helplessness. I needed a plan. Fear had no place in my life now. I wasn’t alone any longer, I had a family now. I just needed to find them. An idea began to form as I knelt on the beach, the storm whipping around me in all its righteous fury. I knew the boys. I knew them inside and out and I asked myself what I should’ve been asking all along--what would they would do next? What they would fall back on when the world went to shit around them?

_Hunting._

     Lightning streaked across the sky, stabbing down into the inky roiling waters of the ocean as clarity swept through me, banishing the aimless turmoil in my chest and replacing it with a fierce determination. I knew how to find them. I knew how to find my way back to my boys.


	48. Epilogue - Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, for those of you who thought this would only be coming in two parts, well... it's not. It's definitely going to be in three. I tried, trust me I tried so freakin' hard to narrow down this wordcount and get it all to fit but Dean and Lex just had so much more to say! And Dean! Good grief, that man just wouldn't let me be. Quite a bit of this is from his POV. Hope you enjoy this next bit of his and Lex's story.
> 
> Quick shout out to my saintly betas @WinchesterKarma67, @infinity_dreamchaser, and @cherrishish for listening and agonizing with me through this entire section for weeks on end. Love you, ladies. Your patience has earned you sainthood in my book. <3

     I had never minded crowds before. Growing up, crowds had been the surest way to score some cash. But the raucous group of college students in the Cottonwood Coffee Bistro Bar in Lincoln, Nebraska, five minutes from the University campus was about to make me lose my shit. _They_ _just kept coming_. Coffee appeared to be the vice of choice for every single fucking person on campus and Cottonwood was apparently where the coffee junkies gathered for a midnight fix. Eight people crowded around tables meant for four and at least two people crowded onto every available sitting space, even overflowing out onto the outdoor patio area. Several tabletop games were being played along one side of the room and the mounting noise level was making every muscle in my body clench. I was tucked at the far end of the bar with a huge group at a table behind me and another group to my left, all occupied with their own overlapping conversations. Everyone was shouting just to be heard, granting me a fairly inconspicuous place to assess the room and my options.

     I had come in looking for an easy mark, needing a laptop, more cash, and a new set of wheels. Lincoln had been the next exit on the highway and it had seemed like luck that such a crowded business was open this time of night. But the escalating noise pounding at my skull had me thinking I had overestimated my self-control. I had spent the last eight hours in a cramped car and I was so far beyond exhausted that even the fan blowing the stuffy air around the room was irritating me. The next time someone jostled me, I was going to start throwing punches.  Trying to block out the unrelenting shouts and laughter was a joke, but I managed to keep myself focused. _Get in, get supplies, get out. Get in, get supplies, get out. Get in_ _…_

 _There._ My first mark was a dickwad preppy athlete that was completely ignoring his date in favor of flirting with the girl across the table from him. This guy could obviously spare the cash. His flashy white bag was slung over the back of his chair carelessly and bulked out. _Laptop_ _–_ _check_.

     The car and cash weren’t going to be difficult, just time consuming. After subjecting myself to this claustrophobic press of college kids, I did _not_ want to have to people again for a several days, at least. That meant I was going to have to pace out my marks and blend in, slowly gathering enough cash that I could comfortably spend the next few days tucked away somewhere researching where the boys might be headed next. No matter how much I hated to be in this stiflingly hot coffee bar in the middle of the night with dozens of sweaty bodies, it _was_ the quickest way to find Dean.   

     “Hey there, beautiful – what can I get you?” The bartender leaned over the counter to shout so I could hear him, pressing into my hard-won personal space. The strange mix of coffee equipment and alcohol bottles on the wall behind him created a colorful background to his eyes undressing me. I had felt his eyes tracking me all across the chaotic room. If there was one thing I was well acquainted with, it was a heavy gaze that preyed on your weaknesses. The little sleep I had managed the night before had been filled with nightmares starring Stokes standing in the darkness, eyes glowing as his disembodied voice snapped out commands and ordered the vampires to feed. My nightmares were random, different memories sneaking up through my slumber like a noose around my neck, only growing worse as I pushed myself harder. And the fact that a two-bit bartender in some hipster coffee bar in Nowhere, Nebraska was making me feel that same sickening swell of vulnerability was pissing me off. It was making my skin crawl, making this heat unbearable, and escalating my frustration that I didn’t have adequate room to defend myself. I felt pinned down and I didn’t care for the feeling at all.      

     I ignored his question, my eyes continuing to search the crowd for a mark with some _real_ cash.

     “Aw, come on!” He wheedled, leaning in closer and ignoring several calls from down the bar for refills. “I don’t deserve the cold shoulder. Maybe I should mix you one of my specialties.” His gaze slid over my curves and lingered. “You need to loosen up!”

     “Take a hint. Not thirsty.” I sidestepped to avoid his hand reaching farther across the bar to touch me.

     His gaze sharpened with interest. “Feisty, aren’t you? Hey—I like feisty! Feisty means you’re just asking for a firm hand to tame that wild streak. I get off in twenty minutes – how about you meet me out front?” He threw me what I’m sure was supposed to be a seductive smile as his eyes dropped back down to my flannel and jeans as if he could use his eyes to touch me. “My apartment’s just around the corner!”

     I debated for a moment whether throat punching him was an appropriate response. _Dean_ _–_ _you_ _’_ _ve got to find Dean._ I settled for a vicious glare that warned him if he came toward me again he was going to start losing limbs. The power coiled deep inside me, restless from my heightened emotions. _"_ Fuck off, dude!” Fuck this shit. There were plenty of other spots in this room that I could use to find my marks. He shouted something after me as I wove back through the crowd but I ignored it, trying to block out the way I could still feel his eyes on me.

     I needed to get out of there. _Soon._ There were too many fucking people and it was too goddamn hot. No place should be this hot in the middle of the night. None. Sweat had been rolling down my neck since the moment I set foot in the doors yet despite that the bartender was the _third_ guy to hit on me and I was so fucking over it. _I miss you, Dean._ _You_ definitely _would_ _’_ _ve punched that guy in the throat._ Hell, who was I kidding -- Sam would’ve too. I missed my boys and unfortunately the only way back to them was through this chaotic mess. I needed to get my butt in gear. _Get in, get supplies, get out._

     When I burst through the crowded doorway an hour and a half later, I had the computer bag slung over my shoulder, keys in my hand, and three hundred dollars in my pocket, a significant portion of it liberated from the skeevy bartender’s tips. Now, I just needed somewhere quiet to research.

 

 

     I sat in the car, staring angrily at my bloody hands clenched on the wheel. I had been wrong. _Again._ I had been so sure this time. Sure that the signs were obvious, sure that this was the hunt that the boys would be on. I was so certain that Dean was heading for the quickie hunts, the ghosts, ghouls, vampires – anything that was obvious at first glance and could be handled swiftly, leaving you blood splattered and satisfied. I knew Dean. I _did_. But I was missing something, I had to be. It had been thirty days since I had last seen them. I had been sure I would see them today. But I had been wrong. _Again._

     Despite my certainty, I had pulled up to an empty street and yet another hunt I had to handle alone. Chopping off the head of the vampire that had been feeding on people in this tiny town had barely taken the edge off my frustration. But people still needed saving, and the job still needed to be handled even if I was just there because of a miscalculation. I had miscalculated a lot this past month, and the list of hunts I had managed alone was getting longer and longer. I had managed to rescue a few people but failed to save far more. Each failure weighed on me heavily and knowing that there were dozens of innocent people out there, trapped in darkness, waiting for rescue that wasn’t coming was pushing me into longer and harder days as I searched. I had to fight the guilt as I narrowed my focus on finding the boys.

     That one little phrase that Sam had first said to me, ‘We’re hunters’ had held a wealth of history that I was only just beginning to understand. Hunting wasn’t just a job, something you stepped into and out of at will. It was a call, a sick twisted relentless siren call that taunted you with those you couldn’t save, that whispered at night that every moment you slept could mean someone else’s life in the balance. Hunting was a passion and a torment and I finally understood the importance of Sam and Dean’s relationship. They held each other above water. The jokes, the fights, the arguing, the banter – all of it was a constant struggle against giving into the darkness that pulled at them on a daily basis. They were heroes, but there was a cost for their heroism. Their peace of mind was but a shadow of a memory and I understood so much better now that I had been in their shoes. There was great purpose in hunting. But hunting alone was a death sentence, whether you ran up against something stronger than expected or you simply caved to the helpless cries of the innocents and pushed yourself to exhaustion and grew reckless with your own safety.

     My vision blurred with fatigue as I turned the key in the ignition and listened to the car rumble to life. I was tired, so _fucking_ tired of this bullshit. Hope was a vicious beast that I couldn’t manage to contain and it coiled nauseatingly alongside the desperation that filled my gut. But no matter how many times I told myself I wasn’t expecting to see the Impala when I raced off on a new lead, or how many times I cautioned myself that they probably weren’t going to be at the next hunt, I was helpless to stop the hope from flooding me every single fucking time. I was equally helpless against the sickening ache that grew in my chest when I realized I was headed into yet another hunt alone.

     The more hunts I got under my belt, the more I realized that if I _did_ manage to find Dean, I didn’t want to smell like blood, sweat, and gunpowder. I wanted to be clean. Feel fresh. Be able to launch straight into the kiss I had been dreaming about all month. I couldn’t do that if I hadn’t bathed in a week, or hadn’t brushed my teeth in just as long. So I quit sleeping in the car and had been moving from motel to skeevy motel and bouncing off the wi-fi from the chain restaurants next door to do my research. Clean wasn’t much but it was something.

     It was always that first moment that I stepped back in the motel door that hit me the hardest. The realization that I was back to square one. No leads. No idea where my boys were or if they were even still alive. Cas’s words had started running through my head on a loop. _He won_ _’_ _t survive without you. His love and recklessness ensure that his mourning your absence would ultimately result in his death._ I could feel what the separation was doing to me, the way it felt like my foundation was cracking. I could only imagine how Dean was handling this gut wrenching emptiness. Every time worry snaked through me, I sent a desperate plea through our link even knowing nothing but silence would echo back to me. _Hang on, Dean. I_ _’_ _ll find you. Somehow, I_ _’_ _ll find my way back to you._

     My steps slowed as I moved further into the room. I washed up in the bathroom and slipped into Dean’s shirt. I had been wearing it when Cas swept me away from Bobby’s and it had become my only comfort. The soft burgundy material was worn and faded now because hunting was the only time I didn’t wear it. I didn’t want to risk it getting torn or destroyed.

     I flicked on the tiny countertop T.V. resting on the dresser and sank on the edge of the mattress, trying to gather the energy to pull out the laptop and find a new lead. I settled at the head of the bed with my back braced against the wall as my gaze settled on the tiny flickering images on the screen. 

     “—Found dead at a nearby farm today when an anonymous tip notified authorities of nearby screams. But in a strange turn of events, it appears that the tip may have been called in by the killers themselves.”

     The screen shot to a grainy image, obviously off one of those low quality home security feeds with crappy night vision. My heart stopped in my chest. I knew those shoulders. _I knew those shoulders._

     “—can see in the video, two armed men appear to be breaking into the barn of a local farmer, John Brown. We also see the same two figures exit the building less than thirty minutes later. The anonymous call to the 911 Dispatch was placed only moments after their departure.”

     The call recording started to play. “ _911_ _–_ _what_ _’_ _s your emergency?_ _”_

     The first word of the response set my heart galloping in my chest again. _Sam_. “ _…_ _I_ _’_ _d like to report a suspicious disturbance at 628 Pickett Row. I think I heard someone screaming in the cellar._ _”_ The recording clicked off and my thoughts started to spin. God, he sounded exhausted. Fatigue had dropped his tone almost down to Dean’s rasp. What the hell had they been through this past month?!

     “Authorities arrived moments later to find the Jane Doe deceased. The initial investigation revealed the cause of death to be a knife wound to the neck.” The news anchor filled the small screen, her expression revealing the intrigue beneath her professional mask. “Two unidentified women were seen entering the barn twenty minutes prior to the two men’s arrival.” The screen filled with a grainy still shot of two women and all the air in my lungs disappeared. One of them was me. It was _me._ The same hair, same build, same _face_ _—_ The other woman, a brunette with narrow features, stared up at the security camera defiantly, not even trying to hide her face. The image shifted to the footage of the women slipping into the barn and a time jump to the boys’ arrival. “Local authorities are still attempting to identify the deceased woman as well as the four unidentified figures so if you have any information regarding any of them, please contact the Richardson County dispatch office at 624-555-6281. All four are wanted for questioning by the police and are considered suspects in this homicide.” 

     The news anchor shifted topics to local sports and I scrambled to my feet with my hands in my hair. What the _hell_ was going on?

 

 

(Dean’s POV)

 _Fuck this bullshit._ I stormed into the motel room, throwing the duffle bag of weapons at the threadbare couch roughly. It bounced off and spilled all over the spotted carpet, shattering what little restraint I had managed to hold onto the whole drive back to the motel. Furious profanity burst out of me and I was spoiling for a fight.

     “Seriously?!” Sam groaned, throwing up his hands. Even he was starting to get on my nerves, recent death be damned. Sam moved around me with his big lumbering lope and bent down to push everything back into the duffle. Ever helpful Sam, always fixing whatever I had broken and watching me with concern until the back of my neck itched.

     “It's fine, Sam.” I snapped, irritated he was cleaning up my mess. Not that I had any intention of doing so myself but his quiet helpfulness was getting on my last fucking nerve. How could he be so fucking calm? “Leave it alone!”

     “Dean…” My brother sighed and that sound stretched my nerves taut. _God._ His sighs. Sam knew how to pack a whole freaking conversation into one drawn out sigh. He had been pestering me for days to sit down and talk, said I was getting twitchy. That I was losing my edge, whatever the fuck that meant. That he was _concerned._

     Yeah, poor longsuffering Sam. This was _so_ hard on him. _He_ wasn’t the one that lost Lex. _He_ wasn’t the one that failed to keep her safe and secure with us. _He_ wasn’t the one living as if every breath was a fucking struggle just because she was gone—Yep, poor fucking Sam.

     Sam dropped to sit on the couch, the duffle hanging listlessly in his big paws as he turned those stupid soulful eyes on me. “I miss her too, man.”

 _Goddamn it._ The ache in my chest flared fast and hot, racing over my skin like a wildfire. My fist slammed in the nearest wall, over and over again, the pop of the drywall buckling making my ears ring. The pain in my knuckles was a relief, a distraction from this – this _emptiness_ that lived in my gut now. Air battered at my lungs as I braced myself against the wall, the broken drywall crumbling beneath my white-knuckled grip.

     Silence filled the air between us for several long moments before Sam’s calm, steady voice reached through the haze in my thoughts. “You think I don’t see how much this is eating you up inside? _I know you._ I know that look in your eyes, I know when you’re about to lose it. You’ve been skating that line for the past two weeks and after what just happened back there, you’re starting to scare the hell out of me, Dean--”

     “You don’t know shit, Sammy.” I warned, fighting back the frustration that pounded in my veins.

     Sam’s hold on the duffle bag tightened, the creases around his eyes deepening. “Something’s got to give, man -- you can’t keep going like this!”

     I pivoted toward him, struggling to pull in a full breath. “We should have found her already, Sam! Cas only took her so he could protect her until it was safe to bring her back, and they should be _back_ by now! I trust Cas with my life, Sammy, but something is _wrong_. He hasn’t been answering our calls or texts, and he hasn’t even told us she’s safe! I’ve left him voicemail after voicemail about this psycho bitch jerking us around by our tails so why the hell hasn’t he pulled his feathered ass down here and helped out? She’s after _him_ and he’s been _nowhere_! Cas is AWOL yet again and we’re left down here dealing with his mess!”

     Sam’s brow furrowed. “Seriously? You’re mad at _Cas_ right now?” 

     He wanted me to talk? Then I’d fucking _talk._ _“_ This shifter bitch is after Cas, isn’t she? This whole fucking charade she’s going through is because she’s trying to torture us, torture _me_ into giving him up! Cas can handle that crazy shifter hybrid if he would just come down here for two damn seconds! But _no_ , Cas always has more important things to worry about. For all we know, he dropped Lex off somewhere and she’s out there _alone_!” Just the thought sent pain streaking through my chest and I sent a desperate thought across the link that had been all but useless this past month. _God, I hope not, baby girl. I can_ _’_ _t handle the thought of you out there with nobody to watch your back._

      “Lex is safe, Dean, you have to believe that—”

      “Do I, Sammy? Do I _have_ to? Because I’m pretty fucking sure that we have no idea where she is. _None_. All I know is three days after Cas took her away, I started getting calls from Lex, begging me to come, begging me to save her. Over and over and over, Sam, I’ve had to listen to her pleading with me to rescue her from the darkness, to rescue her from that fucking cellar again.” Air caught in my lungs and I felt my eyes burning. The cracking agony of her voice in those moments… it had created an entirely new set of nightmares. I was stuck in the darkness, everything numb from my head to my toes, unable to take a step but all I can hear are her screams echoing all around me-- “And every fucking time it’s that shifter!”

     “I know, Dean. I’ve been right beside you man, every time we go to get her back—”

     I shoved down the sound of her screams echoing in my mind. “Get her back? You mean every time Shrianna draws us in with lies and we get a front row seat to her mind games?! We have wasted so much fucking time falling for her bullshit when we need to be out looking for Lex!”

     Sam ran his hand through his hair restlessly. “Shrianna is dropping bodies, Dean. We’ve got to handle her before we can keep looking for Lex and Cas. For all we know, they’re perfectly safe. Maybe they’re holed up somewhere and Cas is just waiting until the right moment to bring her back. We need to trust him, Dean. We don’t have a choice. What we need to focus on right now is how we’re going to take Shrianna down—”

     “I’m telling you, Sam – something is wrong. Lex could be out there, alone—”

     “Stop it,” Sam cut me off sharply, his tone grabbing my full attention. “You can’t think like that, Dean. She’s safe. She _has_ to be. We need to focus on _here_ and _now._ We have a shifter hybrid on our hands that is abducting girls and killing them. Yes, she’s powerful enough to project her shifting abilities onto other people. Yes, she’s targeting us – _you_ – and putting Lex’s face on her captives and making you watch her get tortured and killed over and over again. She wants Cas, and she thinks that breaking you down is the way to get him. That means this is going to _keep happening_ unless we can end her. She can see that it’s pushing you closer to the edge, Dean, and you’re playing right into her hands when you lose your shit like you did back there!”

     “What am I supposed to do, Sammy?! As soon as I set foot in those cellars it’s happening all over again. Only this time no matter what we fucking do, _we can_ _’_ _t save her!_ ”

     “It’s not her, Dean,” Sam argued fiercely. “Those girls aren’t Alex. I swear to you, we are going to figure this out and we are going to end Shrianna—”

     “How?!” I demanded. “We’ve tried to kill her, Sam—every time we see that bitch we try to kill her. Nothing has worked – she won’t die!” Frustration blazed through my veins, making me itch to tear through something, _anything_ that would ease this horrible emptiness.

     “Would you quit pacing and sit down so we can figure this out? Something out there can kill this bitch and we have to find it.”

     I groaned, even the thought of sitting still making my skin itch. “I can’t sit down right now, Sam. If I sit down, it all just—” I flexed my hands restlessly. “Forget it. You wouldn’t understand. Just keep talking and I’ll try to—”

     Sam bolted to his feet, the concerned determination in his eyes abruptly blazing to full-blown anger. My fists bunched instinctively as I squared up to his stupid tall frame, a shameful spin of satisfaction coming to life inside me. _Finally_. If he was mad at me, I wouldn’t feel bad taking a swing at him. If he was mad at me, I could ignore the fear growing in his eyes that I was going to do something stupid. If he was mad at me, we were on a level playing field. Mad Sam was a hell of a lot easier to deal with than a concerned or worried Sam. Mad Sam I knew what to do with.

     His tone shot straight past anger and went right for furious. “Don’t you fucking say that to me, Dean—don’t you think for _one second_ that I’m not in this hell with you! I’ve been there with you since the beginning, I _know_ what Alex went through! And I’ve been beside you every step of the fucking way on this. Every fucking step.” Sam threw the duffle bag to the side and we both ignored the sound of its contents spilling again. Sam’s neck thickened as his shoulders tightened in fury. “I’ve been there, man, every time we’ve watched Shrianna kill her. You think I don’t miss Alex? I dream about her too, Dean. About seeing that knife at her throat. About her screaming for help. In my dreams -- in my _nightmares_ I see Shrianna forcing Alex to heal us, forced to heal both of us. But it’s like in the very beginning where all she can do is absorb the pain, to take our injuries into herself and she just keeps taking more and more until she can’t stand up beneath it--”

     “ _That_ _’_ _s enough!_ _”_ I bellowed, my hands buried in my hair, his words pounding relentlessly inside my skull. “Shut the fuck up, Sam! You think I don’t have enough nightmares of my own?!”

     Sam’s voice rose even higher to drown out my shout. “I love her too, Dean! She’s family and far closer to me than a sister could ever be! Don’t tell me that I don’t understand what you’re going through! I have been beside her through this _entire thing_! You were gone when everything went down with Stokes and Grady, Dean -- but _I was there._ I know what it looks like to see her give up, I know what it looks like to see her entire world torn apart! She was breaking apart, Dean, and I couldn’t do a damn thing to help her in that panic room and I was less than ten feet away. Less than _ten goddamn feet._ ” The torment in his eyes was suddenly so immense, so much deeper than I ever could’ve imagined.

     I hadn’t thought about it once, what he had been through that day. We had shared less than a handful of words about it, both of us focused on just getting Lex through that transition and getting Grady contained. When Bobby and I had burst into that basement, the sight of that slimy bastard shoving a bloody Sam to his knees had short circuited my brain. It had only taken one shot to nail that fucker in the spine and Sam had immediately taken over, dropping him to the ground under a flurry of blows that hadn’t left many bones intact. I didn’t remember much beyond that because my gaze had found Lex, my strong beautiful scarred Lex, covered in blood and barely holding herself upright with a collapsed Cas at her feet. There had been so much blood in that room – it had coated the floor and splashed up on the walls as if someone had taken a bucket of red paint and flung it. I didn’t understand how someone could lose so much blood and survive but there she was, my warrior goddess, standing protectively over Cas even though she had been nearly destroyed on every level imaginable.

     That was the moment I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that I needed her. I needed to be at her side, lending her my strength when she reached the limits of her own. I needed to protect her and to be there at the end of the day helping her put herself back together again. The feeling that had been brewing in my gut since the very beginning had suddenly gathered form and substance in that moment. It wasn’t about want or desire or any sort of logical thought. I just knew she was mine, she was my choice, my warrior, _my_ partner. That was the moment I knew that _I_ needed _her_. I barely remembered Bobby ordering Sam to get Cas out of the panic room so we could handle Stokes because all I could hear or see was _her_ and that fucking scalpel at her throat. 

     Sam was right. He was well familiar with Lex’s darkness. He had been struggling with his own burden and all I had done was be a complete jackass. All of the pent up anger making me hungry for a fight suddenly swept away, leaving that goddamned hollowness tearing jaggedly at my gut. “God, Sammy. I – I’m sorry. I’m sorry I haven’t been … I haven’t been there for you. I just feel like everything is spinning out of control. …She’s my fucking soulmate, Sammy. I can’t—I feel like I can’t _breathe_ without her.”

     I could feel Sam reeling in his agony, trying to cap it back off now that it had been let loose. He watched me prowl around the room restlessly, my hands clenching in frustration as I searched. There had to be something here, _anything_ that could ease this ache. We were stuck in this horrible cycle. It hadn’t been long after Cas had swept Lex away that we had received that first gut-wrenching phone call. That first moment was so clear in my mind, the brutal hope that had torn apart my world and rebuilt it in a moment just at the sound of her voice. But it had been the moments that followed that built my nightmares now, the stuttering pain in her tone, the sharp terror edged in desperation. I _knew_ now every time my phone rang that it was Shrianna. Four times she had put me through this hell, four times that I had come around a corner to see Lex, chained once again to a chair in a darkened cellar. Four times that our attempts to kill the hybrid had failed and she had forced us to watch Lex tortured. And four different times I had helplessly watched the love of my life die right in front of my eyes no matter how I tried to save her.

     I finally found what I was looking for, the bottle of Jack I had picked up the night before. It was barely half full after how hard it hit it last night but it was enough. My eyes met Sam’s and I raised an eyebrow in question but he just shook his head, still wrestling with his own demons. I slammed the lid down on the bedside table and dropped to the edge of the lumpy mattress, pulling in a long deep gulp. I stared down at the bottle resting on my leg. A drop of blood fell from my busted knuckles and dropped slowly over the label. My knuckles rarely bled anymore, the callouses from hunting for so many years having long toughened them up. But the sight of my bloody knuckles resting just over that familiar label slammed into my brain like a freight train.

     Lex had been drinking Jack that night in Bobby’s basement after that piece of shit Grady had betrayed her. I still kicked my own ass for sleeping so soundly that night. She had been down there for hours, beating herself bloody on that punching bag to try and drown out the darkness.   _I wake up from the nightmares and there_ _’_ _s only more darkness_. God, just the memory of her expression that night still killed me. Despite everything she had been through, there had always been a grittiness in her eyes, a determination that nothing would break her. That grit was what had first snuck beneath my skin and wouldn’t let loose. She was a fighter, my Lex. But there had been two moments when that grit had failed her, two moments when she simply didn’t have enough strength left to keep going. Once had been when I found her wailing on that punching bag despite the blood running from her knuckles and the fact her body could hardly hold her to her feet -- that was the first time I had seen her shatter. Her words still had the power to bring me to my knees. _I don_ _’_ _t know how to stop hurting. I don_ _’_ _t know how to make this pain go away._ Her voice had been ragged and her eyes empty, the green I loved nothing but a memory to the darkness that was welling up inside her. The second moment had been in the panic room with Stokes when she had begged me to let her die. _Just let me die. I_ _’_ _m sorry, Dean ... I_ _’_ _m_ _so sorry._ It was that memory that clawed at me, that panicked everything inside me. I had seen her give up. I couldn’t handle the thought that it might happen again when I was too far away to reach her, to help her be strong.

     That memory sucked the air from my lungs. She needed me. She needed me to fight the darkness again and I wasn’t going to fail her. This distance between us was breaking us apart, and I needed to _fix_ it. I needed to find a way to kill this shifter so I could focus on Lex. She needed me and I wasn't going to fail her again.

   

(Alex’s POV)

     Three days later, I still had no idea what the fuck was going on, but a pattern had started to emerge. There was a string of cut-throat homicides reported from Austin, Minnesota, which was just a few hours outside Bobby’s, stringing all the way down Interstate 90 and across state lines into Illinois. As soon as I saw the news footage, I had started digging into the police records. I had picked up a few tricks when living on the streets and fine-tuning my cyber skills had definitely been one of them. Navigating the layers of public records to reach the private police records was time consuming but effective, and I found everything I needed. There were seven cases in all now – seven young women that had been murdered in barns in the past five weeks. Each crime scene was exactly the same.

     I thought it was obvious, at first. It was clearly a shapeshifter case. Word must’ve gotten around the supernatural world about me, about my Asuat connection to Dean and someone had seen the potential for weakness. Someone was trying to flush Dean out. But my initial theory of a simple shapeshifter didn’t explain all the details. The boys could handle a shapeshifter, no problem, so why hadn’t they taken care of it? Why hadn’t the boys ended this psycho’s rampage?  So either someone was running a shifter ring whose sole purpose was to fuck with the Winchesters or we were dealing with something else entirely.

     An idea was starting to form in my mind of what could be happening but I hoped I was wrong. God, I hoped every bit of what I imagined was completely wrong. I couldn’t worry about the things I didn’t know for sure, but wrestling my dark thoughts down was a struggle. I had to focus on here, and _now_. I had to focus on finding the boys.

     Whoever was doing this was escalating. The killings were spaced evenly throughout the intervening weeks but the last three victims had been found barely a day apart. In the past seventy-two hours, three girls had been slaughtered in dark cellars. _Three_. Whatever this was, whatever sick son of a bitch was making these girls turn into me, they had a personal beef with Dean. I had no rock-solid proof that the boys were at every single murder scene but the dread curling in my gut told me it was likely. And if they had been, these past five weeks hadn’t just been a brutal separation for Dean but an outright personal hell.

     I watched the security footage on a loop, desperately watching for clues. They were alive, or at least they had been at this point last week after victim number four. But any comfort I found in that knowledge was swallowed by the pain of watching Dean charge into the underground cellar at a dead run, barely waiting to frantically kick in the doors even though Sam was still yards behind him. Dean had thrown the shattered pieces out of the way and bolted into the cellar, with Sam putting on a burst of speed and launching himself down through the shattered doors fast on his brother’s heels.

     Even through the shadows and the crappy video quality, I could tell Dean was running on pure adrenaline. He probably hadn’t slept more than a few hours each night, if he was sleeping at all. As soon as the news clip had ended, I had started trying to force messages through the distance, desperate to feel the smallest hint of his presence, to get the smallest thought across to him. _Breathe, baby. I just need you to breathe. I_ _’_ _m all right. I_ _’_ _m so close. Just stop for a rest, Dean_ _–_ _I_ _’_ _ll figure this out. Just rest_ _…_ If I stayed focused, it didn’t hurt so much. If I kept making progress toward them, I could almost tune out the soul-deep ache in my chest.

     I had pulled the entire length of the security footage from that incident, hoping there would be more information on the film. But if there was one thing worse than watching Dean’s desperate attack on that cellar, it was watching how slowly the two of them had exited the building. They emerged and stood for a moment, side by side as they stared into the darkness. Their movements were dragging, their weapons holstered and their shoulders dropped as if a heavy weight was bearing down on them. But the defeat that showed in every line of their shadowy forms just gutted me. I knew what defeat felt like. I knew what desperation could do to your decisions. 

     Dean was getting reckless and Sam was just trying to keep him from doing anything too stupid. And that was _before_ they found three more bodies in quick succession, three more victims they hadn’t been able to save. They had to know it wasn’t me, they had to know heading into those cellars that someone was just fucking with them, yanking them around, shoving their faces in the fact that they were too late every time. But I knew Dean. And I knew that no matter how logical he tried to be about it he would harbor a hope that this time, _this time_ he would be able to save the girl. That this time it _would_ be me and this horrible separation would end. Dean was getting desperate and I was afraid that desperation was going to get him hurt. Or worse.

     I stared at all the scribbled notes and maps in front of me, spread out on the front seat of a pickup truck. There had been seven victims so far. We were dealing with _something_ or _somethings_ that could shapeshift to match my appearance, and it appeared upon death that they reverted to their natural state. It had taken me all three days to finally find the pattern between the girls that had been taken as part of this massive charade.  Out of thousands of missing girls, those seven had two things in common: they had grown up in foster care, and all had been prior kidnapping victims. It had taken me far too long to figure it out and just the thought of it made my stomach turn. Whoever was taking the girls wanted them afraid. And who would be more afraid than those who already knew what it was like to lose your freedom? To be completely at someone else’s mercy?

     A second video had popped up in the police records just an hour ago. The same unidentified woman and another me-look-alike had been seen in Harmony, Illinois. The last body had been dropped in Argyle, just an hour east of there. So far, the monster had kept their kidnapping spree right along Interstate 90 on a clear route straight into Chicago. The lady without my face had stared defiantly at the camera again, as if daring me to come after her. I didn’t know what her role was in this whole charade, but she was fucking with my boys and she could bet her skinny ass that I was going to track her down. Only two girls matching the victim profile were still unaccounted for in McHenry County near Harmony, Illinois. One of them had been missing for over a week which ruled them out, and the last girl fit the monster’s M.O. perfectly. Every victim had been found within a few miles of their home, and that distance had been rapidly decreasing as the sick fuck got more and more brazen.

     Everything came together in a single moment of perfect clarity that had my heart beginning to pound erratically.

     I knew who the captive was.

     Which meant I knew where she lived.

     Which meant I now knew within a two-mile radius where she was being kept and where Sam were Dean were going to be lured next.

     I was going to see my boys today.

 

 

(Dean’s POV)

     “Dean, there’s a new video in the police records for the case.” Sam leapt to his feet, laptop in one hand and gesturing wildly with the other.

     My chest started pounding like a drum as I moved to his side so I could watch. We knew Shrianna was in Harmony because she had been flaunting her latest victim in front of security cameras for the past several hours and Sam had been working on figuring out who the girl was so we could try and pinpoint a location. Normally Shrianna taunted us with a phone call before revealing the location but my phone had stayed eerily silent. This time it looked like Shrianna had decide to change the rules.

     The crystal clear video feed that popped up on the screen was startling compared to the grainy security feeds we had been keeping an eye on the past several hours. Sam clicked on the volume. Lex was there, chained to a chair, her clothing ragged and bloody and her face already a mess of welts and bruises. Blood dripped out of the corner of her mouth. The girl was gasping, sobbing, choking for air as panic rolled her eyes frantically. The pounding in my chest eased slightly as her outright terror sank in. It wasn’t Lex. Lex would never let her fear show so blatantly. _Not Lex._ _Still a victim, still needs saved, but that is_ not _my Lex._

     A voice sounded just off screen. _Shrianna._ “There now, pet. Relay your message.”

     The girl sobbed pitifully for several moments before she managed to get the words out. “Bring—bring Cas. Or… n-next time death … w-will be a mercy I d-don’t grant.”

     A chill skittered down my spine as my phone finally pinged with an address. My gaze shot to all of the eclectic items we had gathered and spread out on the motel bed. The spell had to work. This time was going to be different. This time, I was going to end this bitch once and for all.  
 

 

(Alex’s POV)

     The early morning sun barely stretched over the fruit trees that edged the farm, leaving much of the property in an uneven shadow. I had switched vehicles at the last farm, taking a truck that had been patiently waiting beneath a tarp and ready to be taken for a spin. I had to leave it out of sight a few miles back on the road, but had grabbed the tire iron and hunting knife resting on the dashboard. The knife was a comforting weight against my lower back as I crept along the shadows, eyes peeled for any movement around me. My grip around the tire iron was slick with sweat as I made my way along the tree line cautiously, heading toward the barn that sat in the back acreage. My heart was racing deep inside my chest and my head was pounding from my relentless effort to push a message through our link. _Dean. I_ _’_ _m here. I_ _’_ _m right here and you both better be all right because if you aren_ _’_ _t, I_ _’_ _m going to lose my fucking mind. I know you_ _’_ _re close, Dean, come on_ _—_ _I just need to hear your voice_ _…_ But there was nothing. Just complete silence that sent a sick twist of disappointment piercing through my chest. But it was relentless, this jagged hope inside me, flaring hot and vicious in my chest and obliterating all logical thought until only one word pounded in my veins. _Dean._

     He had to be here. He _had_ to be close. This was the last barn within a two-mile radius of the missing girl’s house. The barn before me was a long narrow stretch of sagging shingles and deteriorating walls and just the sight of it made a shiver run down my spine. It was eerily similar to the barn I had been held captive under for all those months. My intuition went on high alert and the hair stood on the back of my neck. This was it. If I had figured this all out correctly, there was someone waiting in the cellar beneath that dilapidated barn, waiting in the darkness with a poor girl with my face chained to a wooden chair, a knife held to her throat. Waiting for the Winchesters.

     I reached the edge of the barn, lifting the tire iron up to my shoulder and spinning it readily. My breath was high and tight in my chest as I took those last few steps and spun around the corner, ready to swing at any hint of danger.

     The Impala sat in front of me, gracefully waiting with a fine layer of dust on her chrome edging. 

     Air whistled from my lungs in a gust and I fought to stay silent as tears rushed to my eyes. They were here. My boys were _here_. Exhilaration spun through my veins as my heart began to race so quickly that I struggled to breathe. All of the desperation and hope and terror swirled into one massive ache in my chest as one thought crystallized in my mind. _Dean. I_ _’_ _m here! I_ _’_ _m right fucking here!_ We were close enough now, everything was going to be okay. He had to hear me, had to hear my thoughts through the link. We were _close._

     But something was wrong. The link felt just as empty and vast as it had this entire separation. The thought I had launched toward him with all the finesse of a grenade just hung there between us, in stasis, Dean’s end of the link feeling completely blank. Panic grabbed me by the throat for a moment. He was fine. He had to be fine. Something was simply blocking the link. That’s it. Maybe if I just--

     Voices rose up from the depths beneath the barn and my focus shifted sharply as adrenaline shot through my veins. If they were yelling, they definitely had company. Dean’s voice rose to a shout, sending a tingle down my spine and smashing through the fear that had me by the throat. He was gloriously alive, and he was pissed as hell. Whoever was down there was about to get their ass kicked. After Krieger, surely this fucker would be small potatoes against the three of us working together. _The Winchester family is back in action_.

     The rough timbre of Dean’s anger soothed the edges of my mind even as the voices continued to rise and I crept farther into the darkened barn. The morning sun still hadn’t quite made its full appearance and the barn only had a few windows, leaving the stalls and slumped supports in shadow. There was a door, though, just to my right that had all the markings of a Dean Winchester entrance. It was barely hanging onto its hinges. All that lay beyond the doorframe was a stairwell descending into darkness.

     A faint mustiness drifting from below suddenly started pulling memories forward in my mind. Darkness. Stone steps. Echoing sounds of my snarls, of daring them to try harder, of taunting them that they could never break me. I sucked in a deep breath, forcing myself to pull in even more of that mustiness but not allowing myself to get stuck in the memories. Dean. Dean was down there and I wasn’t going to let anything hold me back.

     A soft voice from one of the stalls at the far end of the barn suddenly caught my attention, halting my foot on the first step of the stairwell. The sounds were quiet, barely more than a murmur but distinct words were being uttered in the shadows. I tightened my grip on the tire iron and started making my way toward the whispers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I love to hear your thoughts! We're almost there, my lovelies. Almost there...


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